


La Vie en Rose

by emalemaleigh



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Paris, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Medical Trauma, Meet-Cute, One Night Stands, Or Is It?, Sharing Clothes, Soran - Freeform, So’hara - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers, Traumatic Brain Injury, as always just a teensy bit, because I cannot help myself, supportive sonny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:07:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27751285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emalemaleigh/pseuds/emalemaleigh
Summary: Lindsey may be one of the most famous soccer players in the world, but to Emily, she’s just a beautiful stranger who desperately needs caffeine.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett, Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 137
Kudos: 253





	1. Emily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emily makes coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I’m back again with a multi-chapter work. This is very loosely inspired by both Roman Holiday and Notting Hill. Enjoy!
> 
> *To any French readers: I don’t speak/write French, so I am using google translate. And there will be French/Parisian stereotypes if that bugs you.

Emily Sonnett loved her job. To her, it wasn’t even really a job. She had never put much stock in the old adage _do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life_ , but now, she was pretty sure she understood. There had only ever one other thing in her life that had ever brought her this same kind of joy. And doing _that_ wasn’t an option anymore, so she threw herself into her job.

About four years ago, after finishing her degree, she took the biggest leap of her life. She had moved to Europe on a whim because, _why not?_ She had always been that way, someone who flew by the seat of her pants. She thought of it as living in the moment, but her mother liked to call it “flighty” or “irresponsible”. She had fallen in love with Paris years before, on a trip in high school with her soccer team. The food, the art, the culture, it all called to her.

She had a Hospitality and Tourism degree, so it kind of made sense in her mind to move to one of the biggest tourist cities in the world. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her home, because she did. Georgia was an amazing place to grow up, especially for someone with an adventurous spirit, someone like Emily. When she was little, she would spend all day outside playing in the dirt. She would build forts out of broken branches and pretend she was a famous explorer. And when she was older, she’d spend days going on hikes or playing soccer. It had turned her into an extremely independent person. She prided herself on not _needing_ anyone, she could handle things on her own. Maybe that’s why she decided to move halfway across the world, to prove that she _could_.

So, after her college graduation, she purchased a one-way ticket with all the money she’d gotten as a gift from her relatives and packed everything she could into two duffel bags. She didn’t even have an apartment; she had stayed in a dingy hostel for a few weeks until she got a job. And from then on, she never looked back.

It took a while to get settled though. She managed to get a job as a waitress at a small café on the Champs-Élysées, a big tourist hot spot, which meant a lot of tips. As someone that spoke perfect English (albeit marred by a Southern accent, as her co-workers would say) that meant that she got a lot of shifts and the biggest tables (since the locals never came in groups). Her boss even let her live in the emptied-out office above the café for next to nothing.

Emily didn’t need a lot of space. She would much rather be outside and enjoying her surroundings that huddled up in an apartment with no money to spend. She spent the time she wasn’t working doing things like walking along the river, taking the time to see every single piece of art in the Louvre, and acquainting herself with the French nightlife. On Sundays, she would take her cup of coffee and a sketch pad out to the Luxembourg Gardens and spend hours just doodling. Sometimes, she would try to draw the passers-by, maybe a pretty girl, and other times she would focus on the flowers or whatever popped into her head that day. It was one of her most cherished traditions.

Nowadays, she didn’t have as much time for traditions. About six months ago, Emily embarked on another big leap. With all the money she saved, plus a small loan from her parents as a birthday _and_ Christmas gift for the next five years, she had started renting out a space for her own coffee shop. It was tiny, and nowhere near the center of the city, but it was hers. She had just put the finishing touches on it before officially opening a week ago. The tables outside, the hanging plants on every corner, and her personal favorite part (at least this week) was the wall of bookshelves that she had built. She had scoured antique shops, old bookstores, new bookstores, and everywhere in between in order to have a wide selection. She wanted this place to be somewhere people would come and spend the whole day (preferably while drinking the coffee and eating the food).

Emily loved to read; it was one of her passions. She loved getting lost in a story, whatever it might be about. Whether it be _Harry Potter_ for the thousandth time, or classics written by people like Fitzgerald, Vonnegut, or Jane Austen, she could curl up in a chair and read for hours.

She didn’t have any money to pay employees yet, so she was doing most of the work. The food options were limited at the moment, since she was the one making everything, but the coffee was pretty free flowing. She had a friend, Kelley, a fellow ex-pat, who had volunteered her services as barista or waitress or whatever Emily needed on the weekends.

“I can’t pay you, Kel.”

“Just let me drink for free and I’m all yours.”

The two had met not long after Emily moved to France, when Emily stumbled on a pickup soccer game on the grass in front of the Eiffel Tower, the first time she had touched a soccer ball since she was 19. That had to mean something, right? Kelley was a few years older (and wiser, as she liked to say) and had lived there longer, so she kind of took Emily under her wing. Once they found out they both grew up in Georgia, they were inseparable. She even claimed responsibility for coming up with the name for Emily's shop, _Maison Géorgie_ (Georgia House).

Kelley was beautiful, anyone with eyes could tell. She stood out amongst the other French girls, all muscle and sharp features. The first time they hooked up was after that pickup soccer game. There were times where it happened very frequently, to the point where Emily practically lived in Kelley’s apartment, and others where it barely happened at all. They hadn’t hooked up in a few months now that Kelley had found herself a new French girlfriend. She was gorgeous, but, in Emily’s opinion, also kind of a bitch. Her name was Alex or something like that.

Once Emily settled into living in France, she had been in a few relationships, but nothing ever really seemed to stick. Girls would say she was too much for them, too American, too Southern, too energetic, too touchy, too upbeat, the list went on and on. She wished that it didn’t hurt, but nowadays, she avoided anything past one night. She knew she was good at sex and she enjoyed it, but she really wished she had someone to come home to in the evenings. She was “on” all day, every day at work, and it would have been nice to have someone to decompress with her, someone to _talk_ to, rather than just watching some trashy reality television show and mindlessly scrolling through her phone for hours. Someone who would just _be_ with her.

She had made friends in France, sure, but no one stuck out as very close, except Kelley, who had become her absolute best friend. She helped Emily with her French when she first moved (then promptly gave up when she realized Emily was hopeless. _“It’s like Phoebe trying to teach Joey all over again!”_ ) and was happily pitching in at the café until Emily could afford to hire an actual employee. Kelley was a teacher at the international school, so she was free most afternoons and weekends to help. She even dragged her girlfriend along a few times and put her to work, much to her obvious dismay.

“Son, where do you want these?” Kelley called to her, walking in the front door. She was carrying a large tray of pastries with her.

“Where did you get those?” Emily called back from atop a small ladder where she was watering her plants.

“I made them, dummy.”

“For me to sell?”

“You say that like I’m not a good cook.”

Emily climbed down off the ladder and put the pitcher in the sink. “I think you’re a great cook... If you like vegan shit and smoothies. You barely eat bread! Tell me, Miss Kelley, how have you lived in France for nearly ten years without eating baguettes?”

Kelley scoffed with indignation. “And here I was trying to be helpful. See if I ever feed you again.”

“Promise?” Emily snorted and Kelley threw a pastry at her.

“Now you have to pay me for that.”

Emily took the tray from Kelley’s hands and started piling the pastries under a cloche. She started up the industrial coffee machines while Kelley was taking down the stacked chairs outside. The café opened right at 7:00 and Emily was happy to see she already had one returning customer. A tall, pale, girl with reddish-brown hair came inside and gave a small smile as she sat down at the table. Emily knew she was American from talking to her the day before. She left Kelley to watch the counter while she went to take the girl’s order.

“Back again? Hope that means the coffee is good.” She smiled at the other girl.

“Oh, yes! You do a great job!” Emily smiled as the girl introduced herself. “I’m Rose. I’m a student at the university. All the shops near campus are always so crowded and loud. Your place is so nice and quiet. I might start studying here, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, my goodness, that’s exactly what I want! As long as you’re buying coffee while you’re here!” Emily joked.

Rose had come back every day for the past week. She had started bringing another student friend of hers, an obnoxiously tall, blonde woman named Sam.

After lunchtime, Kelley left to go take care of her dog and promised to come back in a few hours to help close up for the night. After lunch, the place was pretty dead. Normally, Rose and/or Sam would be at a table in the back, but apparently, today was the start of exams. Emily busied herself, cleaning the tables and rearranging her display of coffee mugs. She had started collecting them once she moved abroad. Any time she traveled somewhere, she always brought one back as her souvenir. She had cups from London, Florence, Prague, Berlin, Milan, you name it. She thought it would be a cool thing to display, to give her place a little more character, make it different than all the others. All these French cafes had teeny, tiny cups and charge a fortune, but Emily wanted to bring a little bit of America into her place, so these large mugs were what she wanted to use for serving customers.

She ducked under the counter to search for a new sleeve of to-go cups when she heard the bell over the entry door. She stood up and right away, her jaw and the stack of cups dropped back to the floor. Standing in front of her was the most beautiful woman Emily had ever seen in her life. Tall, with thick, blonde hair and piercing, ice-blue eyes (or were they green? Emily couldn’t tell for sure from this distance). She was wearing a tank top that showed off her broad shoulders and her tanned skin, not a freckle in sight. This girl didn’t look like anyone Emily had ever met before in France. This girl looked like she actually ate and didn’t just chain smoke cigarettes. She looked around the empty café, like maybe she was trying to hide from someone.

When they made eye contact, Emily offered the stranger a kind smile. She seemed on edge and Emily wanted to put her at ease. She didn’t, _couldn’t_ break eye contact with this girl. Looking at her reminded Emily of seeing a shooting star, how you can’t look away or you might miss something great. The girl stumbled forward toward the counter.

“Hi... oh, um... _bonjour_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it starts slow, but we have to set the scene! I’d love to know what you thought in the comments, I love reading them!


	2. Lindsey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindsey runs away

Lindsey Horan hated her job. Well, no, that’s not true. She hated all the things she had to do that _weren’t_ her job. All she wanted to do was play soccer, that’s it. She didn’t sign on for all the extras. She didn’t want to do interviews, model cleats, post sponsored things on her social media, any of it. And she certainly didn’t want to be an ambassador to FIFA. But there she was, standing in front of a huge crowd of reporters and photographers alongside other international soccer players announcing some stupid initiative they were trying to push through. She was supposed to have a sit-down interview alongside her best friend, Tobin, later that day but she was seriously considering ditching, even if her agent would ream her for it later. 

She missed home. Her home in Portland, where all her friends were, where her dog was. She missed her home in Denver, where her family was. Paris was just so... _big_. Sure, the places she lived were cities, but nothing like this. Lindsey had never considered herself claustrophobic, but this place was always so crowded. She hated feeling like a celebrity, so she had taken to slipping outside through the service door of the hotel to avoid the paparazzi if she wanted a coffee from next door. She was a soccer player, not some bimbo actress on vacation. 

It didn’t really matter that she could never stick around the cafes, there wasn’t ever any room for her to sit anyways. The cafes were always full, filled with snobby French locals that looked down their noses at Lindsey’s sugar-filled Americano, or large tourist families and their screaming kids. In Portland, her favorite café was a little hole in the wall around the corner from her apartment. Her favorite armchair was always free, and the soft, indie music that floated around the room warmed her just as much as the coffee. 

She knew she was being a baby about it. They were only going to be in France for a few weeks, but Lindsey already hated it. She just wanted to play soccer, and she was quite certain that there wasn’t a single ball in this entire hotel for her to kick around. Tobin probably brought a mini ball in her bag, which Lindsey would go search for later. She needed to move, not having practice was making her body anxious. Plus, they were playing a charity match with all the ambassadors at the end of the week and she was _not_ about to be on the losing team. 

She fidgeted in her chair, not paying attention to the question being asked to the girl next to her. She focused on the cool chandelier on the ceiling, counting all the lightbulbs until she felt a hard kick to her shin. 

“Ow! What the—” She glared at Tobin on the other side of her. 

“They asked you a question.” Her best friend replied through gritted teeth. 

Lindsey suddenly sat up straighter, eyes searching for the person who asked the question. 

“Can you repeat the question, sorry.” She asked the group, hoping one person would pop out. 

“Yes! Ms. Horan, have you ever considered playing your club football in Europe? Many pundits have said your style of play would suit it, particularly here in France.” 

Lindsey had to take a deep breath, stopping herself from rolling her eyes. She had been asked this question about 800 times since she got to Paris three days ago, and the answer was always the same. 

“I’d never shut the door on the idea, but at the moment I have no plans to play overseas. I’m a bit of a homebody and am really content with my club in Portland. More than content, I love it there.” It was her practiced response, so she tried her best not to sound too rehearsed. 

“Ms. Horan, your breakup with a fellow Portland club mate has been widely reported. Do you feel like your emotional state has been affected? You haven’t scored a goal in your last ten games.” 

Now _that_ was a new question.

Breaking up with him was probably the best decision Lindsey had made in a long time. He hadn’t done anything like cheat on her, but he hurt her in other ways. She could count on one hand the games he came to at Providence Park. She understood that he had a game schedule too, but he made no effort to actually see her play. But any time Lindsey had a press event, there he was, draped over her or keeping his hand on the small of her back, which she hated. He hadn’t even planned to watch her play in the World Cup in a few months! Lindsey thought she was a good girlfriend, but he always said she was “too much”. Too touchy-feely, too sensitive, too passionate, too caring, too romantic... too much. 

She felt so much freer now, lighter than she had in a long time. “My emotional state?” Lindsey scoffed. “No, not at all. _He_ hasn’t scored a goal for the Timbers since last season. Why don’t you ask _him_ that question? Let me know what he says.” 

But the second half of that question was certainly true. She hadn’t scored a goal in a long time and she didn’t have a good explanation for it. Maybe she was getting too in her head, psyching herself out before the game had even started. That had been an issue for Lindsey’s game as long as she could remember. Playing for the U-14 team in middle school, her coach used to not let her take free kicks or corners because she would spend too much time thinking about it. In high school, she would get so nervous before games that she’d have to throw up. 

“Are you seeing anyone new?” Someone else asked. 

Now Lindsey definitely felt like throwing up. Tobin squeezed her knee gently under the table. “I’m not sure how this is related to my playing or FIFA’s new program. I'm more than willing to answer questions about those things.” She responded curtly. 

She wasn’t seeing anyone new; she had practically sworn off men in general at this point. Tobin liked to joke all the time that Lindsey was at least a little bit gay, which was why her boyfriends never lasted that long. Lindsey thought it was just that she attracted shitty men. She was 25 now and hadn’t ever, truly been in love. She'd never even been close, to be honest. In college, she thought she’d found the perfect man. He was kind, attentive, and cheated on her for the entirety of their relationship. When Lindsey found out, she was devastated. She didn’t leave her room for a week. Thank goodness for her roomie and teammate, Mal, who picked her up and made her rejoin the real world. 

When they broke up, that was the first time Lindsey tried journaling, at her therapist’s recommendation. She thought it was stupid at first, but soon enough she was filling page after page. Sometimes she’d write about soccer, or her friends, sometimes she’d try her hand at poetry or song writing (magically, all of those entries found their way into the shredder), and sometimes she’d write about him. At first, when she wrote about him, she described him as a hurricane, a drug, her whole world. But as she began to move on, she realized that he was nothing special, nothing above the ordinary; he was just a boy. A boy that didn’t want her, and that was that. 

That year, Lindsey broke the single season scoring record and became the all-time leading scorer at UNC. 

Nowadays, Lindsey flinched whenever people asked her about her love life. She didn’t consider herself a celebrity, though people always wanted to make her out as such. All she wanted to do was play. No one had any right to harass her about her personal life. Even in Portland, where people _did_ know her and saw her regularly, they kept a respectful distance. She had no problem signing an autograph or two, and no one at home ever asked about her boyfriend, or lack thereof. 

When the press panel was over, the players were ushered back to their hotel rooms to set up for their individual interviews. 

“God, why did I let Carli sign me up for this stuff?” Lindsey groaned as she flopped face first onto her freshly made bed. 

“Cause you’re a good person and this is a good program.” Tobin said before walking into the bathroom. Lindsey wished she could be as relaxed as Tobin, who didn’t seem to be bothered by anything, ever. 

“Yeah, well, being a good person sucks!” 

Two hours later, there was a heavy knock on the door to their suite. Lindsey sat up groggily, having fallen asleep. She must have worn herself out with all her ranting. On the other side was a woman in a power suit, her brown hair pulled back into such a tight bun that it had to hurt. She was standing rigid in the doorway, like someone who didn’t know how to relax. Like someone with a stick permanently up her— 

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Carli asked, though it didn’t exactly sound like a question. “Your interview is in, like, 30 minutes!” 

Lindsey left the door open and walked back into the room, ignoring the steam coming out of her agent’s ears. “I fell asleep. Jet lag or something.” 

“I don’t care what the excuse is, Lindsey. Just get ready, now! God, do I have to hold your hand all the time?” 

If she wasn’t already in a bad mood, a comment like that would have just rolled off her back. But after spending the whole day in front of press and cameras, Lindsey was already near the end of her rope. She didn’t speak a word to Carli, just glared at her before slamming the bathroom door. 

“Your car will be here in 10 minutes. They will be waiting at the lobby door.” Lindsey didn’t respond and eventually she heard the door close and the lock click. 

She sat down on the lid of the toilet, pulling a brush through her hair. Lindsey hated being told what to do, being ordered around. She had had enough of that from her parents and her coaches growing up, and nowadays from her ex-boyfriends and idiots on TV. She was an adult, dammit, and she could make her own choices. She tossed her brush back onto the counter and walked out of the bathroom. She grabbed her phone and her room key before walking out the door. 

She made it to the lobby and saw Carli talking to the driver of a black Town Car, pointing at something on her clip board. She could see a group of photographers hovering outside the door too. Lindsey made her way slowly toward the exit near the hotel restaurant. Just as she got to the door, she heard her name being called. 

“Lindsey! Here! I told you, front of the lobby.” Why was her voice always so _shrill_? "Lindsey Horan, let’s go!” 

They made eye contact from across the room and Lindsey’s mouth curled into a wry smile. She took off through the other exit and broke out into a run through the alleyway that led to the street behind the hotel. She could hear Carli’s screech as she rounded the corner. She knew her agent would force that poor driver to circle around for her, so Lindsey kept up her pace for the next few blocks, slowly making her way out of the city center. 

Once she was pretty certain she had outlasted her minders, a small café on the corner caught her eye. The ones that she had been to so far in France had been huge and overly crowded, but this one seemed more up her alley. Like it might not be packed to the gills or serve teeny cups of bad coffee that cost too much. 

At the sound of the bell over the door, someone popped up from behind the counter. Lindsey was still out of breath from her run when she walked into the empty café, which helped cover her small gasp at the attractive blonde woman who had suddenly appeared. She was wearing an oversized grey sweater, which Lindsey thought was odd for such a warm day, but man, did she make it look good. The stranger gave her a stupidly soft smile that Lindsey attempted to reciprocate, instead tripping over her own feet as she stumbled toward the counter. 

“Hi...” _She’s French, you idiot_ , Lindsey scolded herself. “Oh, um... _bonjour_?” 

Now that they were closer, Lindsey could see just how blue this girl’s eyes were, deep navy with traces of grey. The barista smiled even brighter, this time with perfect teeth and crinkles in the corners of her eyes, before speaking to her. “American?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll actually see them interact beyond a few words next time, I promise! I hope y'all enjoyed this. If so, let me know in the comments, that's what I look forward to. Stay well!


	3. She Looks So Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “First time customers are on the house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's back, and this time with lots of dialogue!

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, staring at each other. Eventually, Emily was the one that spoke first. 

“Can I get you something?” 

Lindsey was immediately thrown by her accent, or lack thereof actually. Somehow, she had managed to stumble into the one café run by an American, and a cute one at that. 

“Oh, um... Americano?” Lindsey winced reflexively, bracing for the inevitable look of disgust that she had gotten from every single French barista so far this trip. Maybe she just needed to stop drinking so much coffee. But then, the girl gave her another soft smile. 

“You stickin’ around or is it to go?” 

“Are you even open? It’s so quiet.” Lindsey winced again at her words and what they could imply. But again, the girl on the other side of the counter surprised her with a laugh. 

“You’re a little early for the afternoon crowd, they’ll trickle in within an hour or so. Tourist?” 

Lindsey couldn’t remember the last time she went out in public and wasn’t recognized by at least one person. This girl though, didn’t seem to have the slightest clue that one of the most well-known professional athletes in the world had walked into her café. The thought of sitting and enjoying her coffee without someone staring at her was intriguing to Lindsey. 

“Something like that.” 

She watched the woman work behind the counter, noticing the way her hips swayed slightly to the soft music that floated around the store. She pulled down a large mug covered in slightly crude Picasso drawings. Lindsey’s eyes went wide, she hadn’t seen a cup that big since she left Portland. 

“Well then, welcome to Georgia House! Oh, excuse me, _bienvenue á la maison de la G_ _é_ _orgie_ _!"_ Her accent seemed a little rough, but that made it all the more endearing to Lindsey. 

“Is that you? Is your name Georgia?” Lindsey asked, hoping it sounded nonchalant and not like she was digging for information about this very cute girl in front of her. 

“Ha! No, but what a coincidence that would be! In case you couldn’t tell, I am not a native Parisian.” The girl slid the mug across to Lindsey, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the white countertop. 

“No way! I would have never guessed.” Lindsey smirked. 

“I’m originally from Georgia. Thought it might be nice to bring a little bit of home with me.” It might have been Lindsey’s imagination, but she could swear the girl’s voice got a little wistful when she talked about her home. 

When Lindsey handed over a few bills for the coffee, the barista pushed her hand back. “First time customers are on the house.” 

“Thank you. You’re probably the nicest person I’ve met since I got here. I’m Lindsey, by the way.” 

“You must not have met too many people then.” The girl winks but doesn’t give her name. 

Lindsey found her way to a small table in the back, near the wall of books. She considers pulling one down, but she knew she wouldn’t read it. But maybe, if the owner saw her reading, she might think that Lindsey was worldly or smart. 

Even though Tobin always joked about it, Lindsey had never put much thought into dating girls. Not everyone found their soulmate at 22. Lindsey found herself a little jealous of Christen and Tobin’s relationship. They were nauseating, for sure, but they were in love. 

There was this one girl, in college, who had caught Lindsey’s attention, but by the time she had figured out why, the girl had graduated and moved on. She would never be _opposed_ to dating girls, but no one ever really stood out. It’s bizarre, honestly, given her profession and the percentage of gay women that played soccer, that she had made it this far without having some kind of awakening. That is, until she walked into this café and saw the blonde behind the counter. Leave it to Lindsey to finally meet a girl that gave her butterflies, only to realize they live 5000 miles apart. 

She turned her chair so that she could better look out the window, or at least that was her cover story. The way she situated her chair also made it easy to watch the way this girl floated around the store. She inspected each of the plants that sat on every free surface and hung from the ceiling and watered a few. She began replenishing the baked goods from behind the counter, pulling them out of a large Tupperware container, like maybe she had brought them from home. _God, she bakes_ _too._

Lindsey finally broke down and pulled a book off the shelf. She’d only be able to get away with staring for so long, so she started skimming the pages of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. 

Emily looked over at her sole customer every so often. While she wiped down the counter, her eyes wandered to the shiny blonde hair and painted white fingernails. This girl, _Lindsey_ , seemed familiar to Emily somehow, but she couldn’t quite place it. She had pulled down a book and was flipping through the pages, but Emily could tell she wasn’t actually reading anything. 

“Anything good?” Emily asked, sliding into the chair across from Lindsey, causing her head to snap up. 

“What?” Maybe she _was_ reading it. 

“The book, It any good?” Emily nodded toward the worn paperback. 

“Oh, I’m not sure. Don’t know anything about motorcycles.” Lindsey dropped her eyes, missing Emily’s silent chuckle. 

Emily leaned back in her chair, curling her legs underneath her, slowly sipping from her own mug, shaped like a Russian nesting doll. “So, what brings you to Paris?” 

“Business.” Lindsey replied, flatly. 

“That’s a shame.” Emily smirked. “The only reason to be here is for pleasure.” 

Lindsey couldn’t be sure, but the tone of this woman’s voice gave her the sense that maybe she was flirting. 

“Oh?” Lindsey met the stranger’s eyes once again. “Maybe I’ll find something _pleasurable_ to do while I’m here.” She smiled over her cup. 

Emily nearly choked on her own coffee. She was saved from having to think up another flirty comeback by the bell over the door. Another customer entered the store and she retreated to the counter. 

Lindsey watched her work. She seemed fluent enough to hold conversation, even if her accent didn’t really fit the language. She talked with her hands a lot, which made Lindsey smile. Draining the last bit of her coffee, Lindsey got up and walked over to return her mug. 

The man waiting for his order gave her a scowl as she weaved around him to leave it at the counter. When they made eye contact, the pretty stranger gave her another smile. 

“Refill?” 

“Unfortunately, I should probably be getting back to reality. I’m going to be in deep shit for skipping a work event, might as well get it over with.” Lindsey rolled her eyes dramatically, making the other girl laugh. After hearing it once, Lindsey didn’t think she'd ever forget that sound. 

“Well, we need to make sure you’re fully caffeinated. That way you won’t mess up the lie you’re going to tell.” 

Before Lindsey could answer, the girl had turned back around and grabbed a to-go cup. Turning back, she pushed the cup into Lindsey’s hand, again ignoring the cash Lindsey tried to give her. 

“I told you, first timers are on the house!” 

“Well, thank you. Really.” 

The girl behind the counter gave Lindsey one more smile before bringing the man his order. 

“I hope you find something fun to do while you’re here, Lindsey. Paris has a lot to show you.” She called over her shoulder one last time. 

If Lindsey was a braver person, she would have been sure to get the girl’s name before she left. If she had been _really_ brave, she would have asked for her number. But Lindsey was not brave, so she turned and walked outside. As she pressed the cup to her lips, she noticed some scribbles near the bottom of the cup. 

_À la prochaine! -Emily_

*** 

Emily was sweeping up when Kelley came back that evening to help close. 

“God, getting here was a nightmare. All the roads near the Ritz are either closed or full of paparazzi. Did I miss anything exciting?” Kelley bounced her way to one of the armchairs, throwing herself into it. 

“Well, thank you for putting yourself through such an ordeal to come and help.” Emily replied sarcastically. “What’s going on at the Ritz?” 

“Oh, some soccer convention, I think. Probably all clambering to get a picture of Messi or Ronaldo.” Kelley waved her hands as if to say _who cares,_ before grabbing a magazine off the table. She followed soccer pretty religiously but knew Emily wouldn’t want to talk about it. “So, what did you get up to this afternoon?” 

“Nothing much. That snotty old man from down the street only sent his drink back once, so I think we’re _this close_ to being best friends.” Emily flopped onto the matching armchair, abandoning her cleaning for the moment. 

“What an exciting life you lead, Em.” Kelley didn’t even look up from her reading material. 

“Oh, and a super-hot girl came in not soon after you left.” She knew this would get gossip-loving Kelley’s attention. 

As predicted, her friend tossed her magazine back on the table. “Tell me more!” 

"Her name’s Lindsey.” Emily breathed. “Kelley, I think she might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

“Besides me, you mean.” Kelley snorted. 

“Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. She was tall, blonde, and she has the most amazing smile.” Emily closed her eyes, trying to picture that smile. 

“Barf. Did you get her number? Or at least hook up with her in the bathroom?” Kelley waggled her eyebrows. 

“Oh yeah! And I left it for _you_ to clean!” Emily giggled while her friend threw a pillow at her. 

“So, wait, you didn’t get her number?” Emily shook her head. “You have zero game, Emily Sonnett.” 

“Had enough to get you into bed, didn’t I?” 

“Man, how you managed to land me that first day I’ll never understand.” Kelley laughed. “What are you going to do now? Just fantasize about her?” 

“I left her with a message. Ball’s in her court now.” Emily smirked, picking up her broom. 

*** 

“Tobs, didn’t you take French in school?” Lindsey called as she walked into the hotel room. “Ahhh!” She clapped her hand over her eyes upon seeing her roommate and honorary big sister half-naked, rolling around in bed with her girlfriend. 

“Shit!” Lindsey heard a thud, assuming it was Tobin falling out of the bed. “I thought you’d be gone longer, Linds!” 

“It’s okay, I’m just going to go wash my eyes out with Listerine. Hi, Chris! Carry on!” Lindsey groped for the bathroom door, dropping her phone on the floor in the process before closing it behind her. 

A few minutes later, she ducked her head out of the door (still covering her eyes) and called to her friends. “Is everyone decent? What am I saying, no one's decent around here. Except maybe Christen, she still here?” 

“Aw, thanks Linds!” Christen cooed. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Tobin yelled good-naturedly. “Everyone is clothed.” 

“Oh, thank God!” Lindsey uncovered her eyes, flopping onto her bed dramatically. “I have so much to tell you!” 

“How did you get back to the hotel without Carli seeing you? She’s been stalking outside the hotel like a lion looking for prey. You’re in so much trouble!” Tobin laughed. 

“Service entrance.” Lindsey said matter-of-factly. “She’ll never think of it because that would require her to walk amongst the ‘riffraff’.” 

“Where did you go?” 

“I found this cute little café outside the city center. With an even cuter owner!” Lindsey squealed. 

“You found a hot, straight guy working in a French coffee shop? Someone that didn’t know who you were? And spoke English? Damn, you always have the best luck.” 

Christen looked at Tobin incredulously before slugging her in the arm. “Excuse me?” 

Lindsey felt her cheeks flush a bit. “Not exactly. More like a hot... girl.” 

Tobin immediately jumped over to Lindsey’s bed, leaping onto her younger friend. “FINALLY! Tell me all about her!” 

“Her name is Emily. She has the bluest eyes, and her laugh, Tobs, I think it’s best sound I’ve ever heard.” Lindsey closed her eyes, willing herself to hear that laugh again. 

“You’re such a sap. We need to get you laid. I— ow!” Christen had gotten up and slugged her again. “So, you get her number?” 

“Umm...” Lindsey avoided Tobin’s gaze. 

“Hopeless, you’re hopeless. Stop hitting me!” Tobin shrieked, trying to avoid Christen, who was coming back for a third time. 

“She did give me a message though.” Lindsey got up and showed her friend the coffee cup. “You took French right? What does it say?” 

“Linds, you know you have a phone that could have translated this is a second, right?” 

Feeling incredibly stupid, Lindsey buried her face in her hands. “Didn’t think of that.” 

“Oh, you got it so bad! She must be hot— Chris, I swear... Alright, let’s see it again.” Lindsey handed over the cup. “Oh, I know this one!” 

“Well, does it say? ‘You’re ugly, never come back here again?’ or ‘Meet me in the supply closet?’ What does it say?!” 

“Chill, dude. It basically just says ‘until next time’ or ‘see you next time’.” 

_Next time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear your thoughts! Comments are my favorite!


	4. Can't Stop This Thing We Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s get out of here, I’ll show you the sights.”

Honestly, Emily was a little disappointed that her message didn’t seem to click. It wasn’t supposed to be a super complicated note, and everyone has a translator in their pocket nowadays. She thought there was a pretty good chance her words would have enticed Lindsey back to the café that night, but once again, she fell asleep in her bed, alone. But this time, she dreamt of piercing eyes and a cute giggle. 

The next morning, while on her run, she discovered what Kelley had been talking about. Her normal route was closed off by barricades lined with greasy looking photographers. 

“What’s going on?” She asked a friendly looking woman with a large camera. 

“The women footballers are coming out soon to do a joint press conference. Going to be massive crowd coming.” Just as the woman spoke, there was a sudden, collective shout as the doors from the hotel lobby began to open. Emily thanked the photographer before continuing on her way, hoping to avoid any other roadblocks. She was a creature of habit with the same path every morning. Just as she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of blonde hair and smiled to herself, reminded of the cute girl she’d met the day before. 

She returned to her tiny apartment above the shop, readying herself for the day ahead. Maybe, with all the hubbub at the hotel, all the nosy people camped outside would eventually leave and want some coffee. Downstairs, in the café, she turned on the coffee maker and started setting up for the day. The whir of the machine and the slight spring breeze that morning made her smile, it was going to be a good day. 

But then, Kelley had called her the night before saying she wouldn’t be around to help, so Emily just _knew_ something would probably go wrong. 

“Sorry, Son. It’s our anniversary!” 

“You know that anniversary means _annual,_ as in a _year_ , right? Not two months. Didn’t you, like, go to Stanford or something?” 

“Oh, fuck you!” 

“You have, multiple times in fact. Does Alex need pointers? Is she pleasing you, _Miss Kelley?"_

Emily could hear her friend choke on whatever she’d been eating. “I hate you so much.” 

She hung up the phone and flipped over “Open” sign. _Ouvert_ _._

Across town, Lindsey stood outside their hotel in front of a hundred or so photographers, tuning out the questions and the clicks of the cameras. She slowly began to slide behind Tobin, trying to hide herself from the crowd. Once the press conference was over, she attempted a mad dash to her room, only to find Carli blocking the elevator bay, which, unfortunately, was also where the stairwell was located. 

_Shit._ Lindsey thought. 

“Thought you’d run away again, huh? I’m not that stupid.” _Are you sure, Carlos, are you?_ “Do you even realize the mess you’ve created here?” 

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.’ Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest. She knew she was acting like a belligerent teenager, but she didn’t care. 

“The attitude is unnecessary and childish. You skipped a sponsorship interview, so now they’ve rescinded their offer, do you get that? And if word gets out that you’re a flake, no one will want to work with you!” 

“Isn’t that your job though? To make sure that it doesn’t get out. Just tell them I was sick or something.” 

“I would, and it would probably work, if the entire hotel lobby hadn’t watched you try to sneak out the back door like an idiot teenager. Did you think about that?” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Carli! Tell them I had a bout of amnesia for something, or I have multiple personality disorder and didn’t know what I was doing. Say whatever you want, I really don’t care.” Lindsey made to go by Carli and up the stairs, but she was blocked. 

“You need to personally apologize for skipping that interview.” 

“Yeah, not happening.” Lindsey tried to muscle past her agent but was pushed back again. “Get out of my way.” 

“Would you rather me tell everyone that you’re unable to participate in the game later this week?” Lindsey’s face fell just slightly, and Carli sneered. “That’s what I thought. Here’s the address for the offices, I’ll let them know to expect you.” She shoved a business card into Lindsey’s hand and spun her back towards the lobby doors. 

Lindsey meandered down the crowded street until she found a familiar back alleyway. The one that led her to the coffee shop the previous day, to _Emily._ She looked over her shoulder, making sure Carli wasn’t tailing her (which wouldn’t have been surprising) before turning down the cobbled path. 

It was probably a twenty-minute walk if she’d remembered the path correctly. Her annoyance at the morning’s events were pushed to the back burner when she started thinking about blue eyes and soft smiles. She rounded the corner in front of an old bank building and the first thing she saw were the hanging plants on the patio. Lindsey felt the butterflies in her as she reached for the handle on the door and the bell rang as she walked in. 

_“B_ _onjour,_ _sois_ _avec_ _toi_ _bientôt_ _!”_ A sing-song voice called from behind a door in the far corner. 

“Um... I think it’s been established that I don’t understand French.” Lindsey gave a nervous chuckle. 

Suddenly, there was a loud crash and then she popped out. She was wearing an army green tee shirt this time, along with a pair of cuffed jeans. For the second time in as many days, Lindsey felt wildly underdressed in her athletic wear. 

“I was beginning to think I’d never see you again!” Emily gave her a soft smile and she stepped forward. 

In the periphery, Lindsey could see a brunette sitting at a back table give her a wide-eyed stare, smacking the blonde who was sharing the table with her and pointing. Just what she needed, to be recognized while trying to flirt with a pretty girl who didn’t know ‘soccer player Lindsey’. She waited a beat, but the two girls didn’t make any kind of move, just continued to stare. 

Lindsey turned back to Emily, who was standing a few feet in front of her. “You’ll come to learn I’m a bit dense. Like, not realizing I could use my phone to translate your message.” Emily let out a deep, belly laugh, and it was like music to Lindsey’s ears. 

“And yet, here you are. Must have made some kind of impression on you.” 

“Something like that.” Lindsey smiled. 

“Well, what can I get you? Same as yesterday?” Emily was already walking back to the counter and Lindsey followed. 

“Surprise me?” 

Emily gave her a wink before turning her attention to the coffee machines. “So, what brings you to my humble abode on this lovely day?” 

Lindsey thought for a moment about how to answer the question. She could be direct and say she just wanted to see Emily, or she could lie and say she just happened to be nearby. But then Emily turned to look at her, head cocked just a little to the side, and Lindsey melted. 

“I’m having a shitty day and knew that seeing you would make me feel better.” _Could you be any cheesier, Linds?_

“Oh?” Emily’s cheeks flushed as she fumbled with a cup, knocking over a glass pourer and spilling sugar all over the floor. “Well, then.” 

Without thinking, Lindsey grabbed the broom propped up against the wall and began cleaning. 

“Stop, you don’t have to do that!” Emily squealed, a hint of embarrassment in her voice. 

“No, but I don’t mind. Have to earn my coffee!” She didn’t wait for a response, just started sweeping around the smaller blonde. 

“Thank you.” Emily spoke a little softer, just for Lindsey to hear. “How about I make this to go?” 

Lindsey stood up straight, confused. She had just gotten there, was Emily already sick of her? 

“Oh, I meant for us! I’ll make myself something too.” 

That didn’t do anything to alleviate Lindsey’s confusion. “What?” 

“Let’s get out of here, I’ll show you the sights.” She pushed a to-go cup into Lindsey’s hand, trading it for the broom. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Lindsey gestured around the store. 

Emily walked around her and flipped the sign on the door. She then looked to the two girls in the corner who were still staring at Lindsey. “Rose? Can you lock the door behind you when y’all are done? Help yourself to whatever.” And then she turned back to Lindsey. “Now that _that’s_ taken care of, how would you like a private tour of Paris? And not the touristy shit.” 

It was probably the best day of Lindsey’s life. Better than her first professional game, better than her first national team game. Emily led her down back alleys and side streets, showing off the street art and local shops. They meandered around an open-air market for hours, browsing every single stall. Lindsey picked up a few trinkets for Tobin and Christen, as well as a beautiful print done by a local artist for her mother. 

While they wandered, Emily’s hand would occasionally brush against Lindsey’s, and it would feel like an electric current shot through her body. Every so often, Emily would catch Lindsey staring, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink as she smiled. 

Emily had been to this market every Sunday for at least the last year. She knew all the vendors by name and would chat with some of them while Lindsey fell behind, caught up in a stand of hand-drawn posters or matted photography. Emily loved that she could see the wonder and excitement in this girl’s eyes. It was a markedly different expression from the one she showed up with to the café. Her eyes were brighter (if that was even possible) and her shoulders didn’t slump. She liked to gently run her hand through the racks of scarves and across decorative pottery, soaking in the textures and smiling shyly to herself. Emily saw the way her one dimple became more pronounced the longer they were together, as if she was slowly unfolding herself in order to be fully present in that moment. 

As the sun began to set along the river, Emily finally mustered the courage to reach for Lindsey’s hand. She watched for a reaction, waiting for her to jerk away, to put Emily in her place. But that’s not what happened. Lindsey gave a quiet, contented sigh as she laced their fingers together, her thumb rubbing soft circles as they walked. 

“Alright, where’s the go-to dinner spot? It’s my turn to treat.” 

Emily looked at her, a little confused. “It’s not a competition, I asked you out, I pay.” 

“You know, I don’t remember there being much asking.” Lindsey laughed and, in that moment, Emily realized she could fall for this girl and didn’t even know her last name. 

“Are you telling me you would’ve said yes if I’d asked?” 

Lindsey fumbled over her words, breaking the eye contact with those deep blue ones. “I’d like to think so.” 

“Well then. Lindsey, would you like to have dinner with me? I know a great little spot.” The faux-serious question made Lindsey laugh again as she nodded her head. Emily took a quick left down a side street, dragging Lindsey behind her. 

*** 

She couldn’t really believe she was in this situation. After dinner at this tiny bistro, where Emily showed off her broken Italian, Lindsey found herself on the dance floor in the middle of a crowded French nightclub. Emily was pushed up against her, her back to Lindsey’s front, grinding to the beat of some non-descript pop remix. She leaned back, resting her head on Lindsey’s shoulder, her eyes closed as she snaked her hand up to the taller blonde’s neck. 

Twenty minutes and two drinks later, Emily pulled her hair up into a bun, exposing a tiny cross tattoo and it took everything Lindsey had not to put her lips to it. 

“Didn’t know I’d found a nice, Christian girl.” She ghosted her thumb over the ink while she whispers, feeling Emily shudder under her touch. 

“I can be whatever you want me to be, baby.” Emily spun around until they were face-to-face. 

The first time their lips connected, Lindsey could have sworn she was floating. Even amidst the boom of the music and the hundreds of other people around them, everything seemed to dissipate when Emily slid her hands under Lindsey’s top, nails raking over her abs. 

They broke apart only to breathe and Lindsey kicked herself for not working harder on her lung capacity at trainings. _S_ _o_ _me_ _professional_ _athlete_ _you are, Linds._

“Come home with me.” Emily breathed before pressing her lips to a sensitive spot just beyond Lindsey’s ear. 

As if Lindsey had it in her to say no. 

They stumbled through the door to the café, and Emily led her up the back stairs to her loft. She spun Lindsey and forces her back, nearly slamming her into the door. 

“Sorry, I—” 

But Lindsey cut her off, capturing Emily’s mouth in her own and deepening the kiss as soon as Emily parted her lips. The way Emily’s tongue began to dance felt so good that Lindsey’s stomach began to drop. She startEd to lose herself a little, feeling their bodies pressed together, where, even through layers of clothing, she could feel the way Emily’s heartbeat was a little erratic, unsteady. 

She broke the kiss only to begin her assault on Emily’s neck, who replied with a turn of her head to give Lindsey more access. She took it as confirmation, a green light, and gently scraped her teeth against soft skin. 

That drew a whimper from Emily's mouth—a noise that went straight to her head and found its way between her legs. Lindsey took in the fresh scent of her hair. It smelled like a lavender field in the summer. 

Lindsey wondered if this was what it felt like to get high, one of the many rites of passage she missed out on as serious athlete. Emily’s deep kisses, her movements, never still, but never impatient, heightened every one of Lindsey’s senses. 

"Can we do this horizontally?" Emily asked with unbridled confidence and a hot breath against Lindsey's ear. "And preferably with less clothes?"   
  
They both fall into the bed, a tangled mess of sheets, limbs, and discarded articles of clothing. Lindsey couldn’t remember the last time she felt so intoxicated by another person. It was hurried and hot, but, at the same time, still languid and intentional. Emily's lips managed to keep Lindsey from thinking about anything else for longer than a few seconds, the feeling of skin on skin sending shivers through her body. It was almost terrifying how Emily got to her so easily, how Lindsey could barely keep control around her. 

She managed to find some semblance of control, pulling back to look at Emily, to really look. Her pupils were blown, and her lips were a little swollen, parted just slightly with her ragged breathing

“I’ve never... not with...” Lindsey couldn’t explain what possessed her to say it, but she needed Emily to know. She half-expected to be shown the door, because after all, Emily didn’t sign up for _that._

But then, Emily’s lips were on hers again, this time softer and sweeter than Lindsey was prepared for. When they separated, Emily nuzzled against Lindsey’s cheek, nosing at her thick hair. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” 

*** 

Emily’s internal clock woke her up before the sun, reminding her of the business she was supposed to be running downstairs. She began to shift a little, only to remember she wasn’t alone. Lindsey had wrapped herself around Emily, nose pressed to the back of her neck. The slow, warm puffs of air told her Lindsey was still asleep. She carefully untangled herself from the sheets before climbing out of the bed. On the floor, she spotted Lindsey’s tee shirt and slipped it over her own head, smiling at the way it dwarfed her. 

She pulled on a pair of athletic shorts and snuck downstairs. Coffee in bed with a pretty girl was reason enough to open the store late. She filled two mugs and gathered an assortment of goodies to bring back upstairs with her. Suddenly, the bell over the door rang, catching Emily completely off guard. 

“Mornin’!” She heard Kelley’s chipper voice before seeing her. “Son, you know I love you, but I don’t think you understand the concept of ‘workplace casual’.” 

“Kel, can you maybe come back later?” Emily whispered. “Kind of in the middle of something.” She points from the two mugs to ceiling and Kelley’s eyes go wide. 

“No way. Sonny, you dog!” Emily had never known her friend to be quiet. 

“Shh! Jesus, Kel, she’s still asleep! Or at least she _was._ ” 

“Is it your dream girl? The one from the other day?” 

Emily nodded shyly. “Now, get out of here and I’ll text you later.” 

“But—”

“Em? Babe? Where’d you go?” 

Suddenly, everything was happening at warp speed. She could hear the creak of the old staircase, a warning sign. Then, like a dream (or maybe a nightmare), Lindsey appeared before them, wearing only a blue flannel shirt that barely covered her and a sleepy smile. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Kelley yelled, making Emily’s head whip around. “Holy shit, you’re— you’re Lindsey Horan!” 

“Wait.” It was too early for Emily’s brain to keep up. “Y'all know each other?” She looked from Lindsey to Kelley and back again. 

“Son... she’s like, the most famous soccer player in the world. Everyone knows who she is.” 

And just like that, Emily felt like the stupidest woman in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit longer because I cannot promise to update over the holidays. Lots of things just happened and I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought!
> 
> I hope everyone has a restful end to the year, no matter how you celebrate (or don't)!


	5. The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m just not ready to leave her yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! I missed y'all!
> 
> Minor TW: medical trauma/TBI

Emily didn’t know what to say. She just stood there, frozen, looking between Lindsey and Kelley. Lindsey looked a little embarrassed, thought part of that might be because she was half-naked in front of a stranger in a room full of windows. Speaking of Kelley, she looked equal parts impressed and giddy, neither of which were things Emily could deal with at this moment. 

“Okay... this seems like something for y’all to figure out together. I’m going to go, but call me if you need me, Sonny.” And then Kelley slipped out the door, leaving the two blondes alone. 

Lindsey shifted uncomfortably from her spot on the stairs. “Um... do you think we could talk upstairs maybe? Or let me change first? Well, you have my shirt so that wouldn’t work...” She rambled on nervously because Emily hadn’t said anything once she found out who Lindsey was. Lindsey noticed the way her fingers seemed to shake ever so slightly as they rested on the counter. “Em?” 

“Yeah, go on, I’ll be up in a minute.” Emily gestured in the general direction of the loft, refusing to look Lindsey in the eye. Once she heard the door close, Emily let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding in. 

_She’s like, the most famous soccer player in the world. Everyone knows who she is._

The world’s most famous women’s soccer player had somehow ended up in her café, in her _bed_. Emily did her best to stay away from anything soccer-related these days. She didn’t even play pick-up anymore, much to Kelley’s dismay, because it hurt too much. But Lindsey didn’t know that. 

She steeled herself before going upstairs, gripping the breakfast tray tightly. Opening the door, she found Lindsey, looking beautiful as ever, perched at the end of the bed and wringing her hands. Her eyes shot up when she heard the door open, like a deer caught in headlights. For the thousandth time in two days, Emily made note of how incredible her eyes were. God, she was so gorgeous. 

“Look, Emily, I’m really sorry. It was just... I can’t remember the last time I met someone that didn’t already know who I am. And you... you just saw Lindsey, not...” And she gestured wildly. “I should’ve told you, I’m so sorry.” Her voice started to tremble, causing her to take a deep breath. “Can you say _something_ , please?!” She didn’t mean to snap, but Emily was just staring, like she was looking right past Lindsey. 

But Emily didn’t say anything. She just surged across the room, planting her hands on either side of Lindsey’s face and kissed her, _hard_. Lindsey was caught off guard, a little gasp escaping her mouth, inadvertently giving Emily the access she was looking for. Emily pressed her back down onto the mattress, hands moving all around her body with featherlight touches. 

Lindsey was so startled by the situation, she pushed Emily back, breaking the kiss. 

“What... what are you doing?” 

“Well, geez, Linds, if you have to ask, I’m not doing it right.” Emily avoided eye contact, instead focusing her teeth on Lindsey’s earlobe and down her throat, lightly skimming along the mark she had left the night before. 

“But shouldn’t... _fuck_!” Emily’s tongue was moving lower toward her breasts. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?” Lindsey panted. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Emily kissed her way back up to Lindsey’s mouth. “Can we just pretend that Kelley never showed up?” She asked, still not meeting Lindsey’s eye. 

“What?” 

“Please?” 

Lindsey squirmed until she could finally see her. Those big, deep, blue eyes were full of need, silently pleading with Lindsey to drop it, at least for now. Rather than respond, she wrapped her arms around Emily’s neck and crashed their lips back together. 

*** 

Sometime later, soft snores filled her ears and blonde hair tickled her chin. Lindsey was fast sleep with her head resting against Emily’s bare chest. She couldn’t resist the urge to run her fingers lightly through the sleeping girl’s thick hair, twirling the baby pieces at the base of her neck while staring up at the pockmarked ceiling of her loft, illuminated by the rising sun outside. 

Her mind wandered to a place she hadn’t allowed it to in a long time. Something about the softness of this moment was telling her it was okay. 

Freshman year. It was the semi-final of the national championship tournament and her team was down with just five minutes left. They had a corner kick, a chance to equalize in the waning minutes of the game. Her job was to make a run toward the near post, just like always. The ball curled in beautifully and Emily jumped up to get her head on it. Then it all went black. 

She woke up in the hospital two days later, confused and belligerent. She started ripping the tubes out of her arms until her mother got a nurse in to sedate her. Later, when the drug was starting to wear off, her mom was there to help make sense of what had happened. 

“Oh, sweet pea, your head.”

Emily reached up and found her whole head was wrapped in gauze and there were electrodes stuck everywhere. “Mama... what- what happened?” 

Holding back tears, her mom recounted the time Emily had lost. The goalie had misjudged the distance, attempted to punch the ball out of play, and hit Emily’s face instead, forcing her backward, hitting the back of her head against the post. The goalie had then landed on her already crumpled form, causing a shattered leg and three broken ribs. The doctors had to put her in a medically induced coma to help the swelling in her brain. 

“But... the game?” Maybe one piece of good news would help her through this. But her mom’s face told her all she needed to know. 

“They ended the game when the ambulance took you away. The girls weren’t... they couldn’t focus with you gone.” She explained that her team was in near hysterics after she was loaded on the stretcher, completely unconscious, and begged the referee to end the game. 

“They were all here, Emmy. They came to check on you afterwards.” _Great,_ Emily thought _._

 _Traumatic brain injury._ _Craniectomy._

_Memory loss. Recall_ _and auditory processing delay._

 _Nerve damage_ _._ _Motor function_ _low._

_Intermittent structural disorder._

All she heard were those phrases, day in and day out, for weeks. They explained over and over again that her brain had gone into protective mode, shutting down part of her body to insure the most important parts were keeping her alive, and it would take time to get back to normal. Except this wasn’t normal, nothing would ever be normal again. 

No matter what happened in Emily's life, soccer was always there. When she was sad or angry, smacking that ball against the side of the house (much to her mother’s dismay) would always help her process and get out of a funk. When she was dealing with her own identity and sexuality, the soccer field was her sanctuary. The ball never lied to her, never broke her heart. The ball didn’t have expectations for her, it didn’t care who she loved. The ball never told her “nice shot” when it wasn’t, the ball never let her off the hook. Every happy memory she had revolved around soccer. Getting a scholarship to play for one of the best teams in the country had been a dream come true. She had gotten her first call-up to the U-20 team just last month. Everything was falling into place. And just as fast, it was all taken away. 

She had to use a wheelchair because the nerves in her hands were still not working properly so crutches were out of the question, not to mention the pain from her ribs keeping her from wanting to move at all. 

When the doctor told her that playing soccer would probably never happen again, Emily shut down. Even after months of physical therapy, her improvements only brought her level with any “normal” college kid, but she would never get back the speed, the skills, or the mental quickness to be an elite athlete. 

After years of whizzing through school, getting good grades her whole life, now Emily’s brain took twice, sometimes three times as long to grasp concepts than she used to. She had entered college as a math major, but soon had to change because of her inability to keep up, even with tutors. She dealt with blinding headaches that resulted in entire days in bed, curtains drawn and a trash can next to her. She suffered from seizures until they finally found a medication to control them. 

Her parents did not approve of her choice to move abroad after college. They had some knock-down, drag out fights about it, in fact. Her parents treated her like she was still in that hospital bed, like she was completely helpless. It became a point of pride for Emily, being able to handle things on her own, not to need anyone. Since her injury, everyone around her treated her with kid gloves, coddled her, and it was suffocating. She needed to go somewhere people wouldn’t know her, wouldn’t know her story, wouldn’t pity her. 

Stepping off that plane at Charles de Gualle Airport, Emily felt a weight being lifted off her chest. This was what she needed, a fresh start. She didn’t care that she didn’t have a place to live yet, or a job, she was just so happy to be anywhere but home. 

She stumbled upon that pick-up group on the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower a few days later. She watched those people play with such freedom, so happily, that it nearly made her sick to her stomach. But then, a pretty brunette caught her eye and smiled, jogging over to where Emily stood, staring. 

_“_ _Rejoignez_ _-nous?”_ She asked, pointing in the direction of the other players. 

“Uhh...” Emily stuttered. 

_“_ _Anglaise?”_

Now _that_ was a word Emily knew, nodding her head in affirmation. 

“American?” The girl asked with an obvious American accent, which was a contrast to her perfect French. 

“Yeah, just moved here.” 

“Sweet! Where from?” 

“Georgia?” She didn’t mean for it to come out like a question, but her shyness was coming through. 

“No shit! I’m from Georgia!” 

And from there, a friendship (with some occasional benefits) was born. She played a few games with her new friends, hoping it would come back to her, but her frustrations over how rough she was eventually won out and she stopped playing. 

Kelley knew about her problems, having cornered her one night. Well, if you call laying on top of Emily in bed “cornering her”. She had noticed the surgical scar on Emily’s scalp, letting her fingers ghost over the skin, causing Emily to flinch. Her friend found a way to be extremely sympathetic without bordering on pitying her. So now, whenever Emily was dealing with a migraine or a bout of partial paralysis affected her hands or her feet, Kelley was always there to help her. She went with Emily to the doctor every time, partly to serve as translator and partly to learn new things. She always made sure Emily ate and learned the special massages to help with the numbness and the tingling sensations. Kelley helped her start the business, especially with the financial stuff, she was some kind of math savant. No matter what, Kelley was always there for her. 

**_Sonny:_** _st_ _ore closed today_

**_Kelley:_** _Closing because you have a hot girl in your bed is no_ _t a sound business_ _model._

**_Kelley:_** _Though I do_ _approve._

**_Sonny:_** _i'_ _m_ _aware, thanks_

**_Kelley:_** _Let me know if you need_ _me._

**_Sonny:_** _well_ _what would_ _alex_ _say about that?_

**_Kelley:_** _Shut up you know what I_ _meant._

**_Sonny:_** _luv u too_

Emily chuckled silently to herself and reached to set her phone back on the nightstand. Her movement caused the body on top of her to shift ever so slightly, reminding her what was there. She pressed her lips to the top of Lindsey’s head and snuggled down into the sheets. Lindsey didn’t need to know why Emily didn’t follow soccer; she didn't need to sit through _that_ conversation. No, Emily was going to soak up every minute with this girl, because something told her it wouldn’t last long. 

*** 

Lindsey blinked hard against the sun pouring through the windows, temporarily forgetting where she was. As she buried her face into the pillow, a soft hum told her that it was _not_ a pillow she was using. Emily didn’t stir and Lindsey couldn’t help but watch the way her nostrils flared with her deep breaths. 

She was pulled out of her trance by faint vibrations made against the hardwood floor. Her phone. She gently slipped out of the bed, careful to not disturb Emily’s sleep. She found her phone, still tucked into the pocket of her pants, which had been thrown across the room in the heat of the night before. The screen was lit up with about a hundred messages. 

**_Tobin:_** _Where did you run off to? I thought we were eating_ _together_

**_Tobin:_** _Carli is looking for_ _you_

**_Tobin:_** _You blew off a sponsor? What the fuck Linds_

**_Tobin:_** _She’s going apeshit_ _here_

**_Tobin:_** _Seriously where the hell are_ _you_

**_Tobin:_** _I’m officially worried. Don’t make me call the_ _police_

Lindsey quickly glanced at the messages from Carli before calling her best friend. She quietly shut the door to the bathroom as she listened to the dial tone. 

“Lindsey! Jesus Christ, where are you?” Tobin practically yelled. 

“Remember that girl I told you about?” Lindsey couldn’t help the smile creeping across her face. 

“Shut up. You fell off the face of the earth because of some hot girl? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Lindsey snapped back. 

“This is your career we’re talking about here. Blowing off a sponsor, missing a training session, that’s not like you.” 

Lindsey had completely forgotten about their training session for the charity match, she hadn’t meant to miss it. She absentmindedly ran her hands along the products sitting on the edge of Emily’s sink.

“I’ll be back soon, Tob. I promise. I’m... I’m just not ready to leave her yet.” 

And it was true. She wasn’t ready to pop the bubble she and Emily had found themselves in. Even though it had already been partially broken, Emily still seemed to want her there, even after being caught in a lie. Tobin launched into a long speech about responsibility while Lindsey tuned her out, exploring Emily’s bathroom. She knew she shouldn’t, but she opened the medicine cabinet. She had to stifle a gasp at the sheer number of pill bottles. Was Emily an addict, a junkie? No, these were clearly all hers, all labeled _Emily Sonnett,_ but everything else was written in French, unreadable for Lindsey. She shut the door, embarrassed by her own snooping. 

“And that’s what is going to happen if you don’t get back here and fix this.” Tobin ended her rant. 

“Just give me a few more hours, I swear.” 

“Fine. But I’m not covering for you.” And they hung up. 

Lindsey slipped out of the bathroom, hoping to find Emily still asleep. She was sitting up against the headboard, scrolling on her phone. She looked up with the softest smile Lindsey had ever seen. Was it possible to be in love with someone you’d only known for three days? 

“Everything okay?” Emily patted the spot on the mattress next to her. 

Lindsey didn’t immediately respond, choosing to dive back under the blankets and feel Emily’s warm skin against her own. 

“Hi.” She leaned in and pressed her lips against Emily’s. The kiss was sweet, more tender than anything they’d done the previous night. 

“Hi.” Emily breathed. “How about I make us some coffee?” 

“I don’t want you to go.” Lindsey whined before kissing her again. 

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to live directly above a coffee shop, so I won’t be gone too long.” Emily kissed her again before getting out of bed. Lindsey watched her shimmy into a tank and shorts and wondered if she was wiggling her butt like that because she _knew_ Lindsey was watching. “I’ll be right back.” And she disappeared behind the door. 

Emily skipped down the stairs with plans of making Lindsey one of her signature drinks. But she stopped dead as soon as her feet touched the tile. Every window of the shop was filled with greasy looking men with their noses pressed up against the glass. They all had cameras in their hands and were shouting at her. 

“Where’s Lindsey?” 

“Who are you?” 

“Are you and Lindsey sleeping together?” 

“French mistress, the story writes itself!” 

Emily was frozen, all she could do was stare blankly at the paparazzi. She couldn’t say how long it was, but it must have been a while because she heard Lindsey calling for her. 

“Em? Did you get lost?” She giggled. “Did you— oh my god.” 

Once again, Lindsey managed to get caught wearing almost nothing, but this time it was by a hundred cameras. She spun on her heel, almost slipping off the stair, and raced back up to the loft. She threw on her clothes and called Tobin, who hijacked a hotel town car without asking a single question. She rushed back to the stairs, nearly bowling Emily over as she went. 

“Lindsey, wait!” 

“I thought you were different!” Lindsey shouted. “How much did they pay you?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Was that the plan all along? Lure a celebrity back to your place just so you can humiliate them after?” 

“I didn’t call them! Lindsey, you have to believe me!” 

“Why should I? Maybe you needed cash to feed your pill habit!” Emily stepped back, speechless. “Exactly. Junkie has to feed her habits somehow, no matter who you hurt.” 

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Emily growled. 

“I don’t care anymore. Have a nice life, Emily Sonnett!” 

And with that, Lindsey ran out the door of the café, pushing past the photographers and climbing into the backseat of a waiting car. She was gone and Emily just stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while so I hope y'all enjoyed! If you did, please leave me comment! I'm a people pleaser and I would love to here your thoughts! It (hopefully) won't be as long for the next chapter.


	6. For Tonight, You're Only Here to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you think love at first sight is a real thing?”

The car ride back to the hotel was silent, save for Lindsey’s sniffles. She was trying to hold back her tears until she could lock herself the bathroom and cry away from her best friend’s prying eyes. Tobin didn’t ask any questions, she was a good egg in that way, but Lindsey knew she was concerned. She would subtly glance in the rearview mirror every so often and Lindsey pretended she didn’t notice. She stared out the window until the white-washed brick of Emily's little store faded from view. 

Tobin pulled up to the back entrance of the hotel, allowing Lindsey to sneak through the kitchen to her room. 

“She’s going to come looking for you. Better make a run for it before her Spidey senses kick in.” _Fucking Carli._ Tobin turned to pat Lindsey’s thigh reassuringly. “I’ll be up soon if you want to talk, okay?” 

Lindsey nodded, not trusting herself to speak without tears tumbling down. She opened the door and sprinted to her hotel room. She let the door slam as she collapsed onto her bed, unable to stop the tears any longer. 

She wasn’t sure she _actually_ believed Emily called the press on her. Sure, they'd only known each other for three days now, but Lindsey never felt like she couldn’t trust Emily. Maybe that was part of her problem, Lindsey was always too trustworthy, always ready to believe the best in people. She should’ve known, it had gotten her in trouble before. 

In college, after catching her boyfriend cheating on her, she tried to move past it. They had a nasty fight about it before she threw him out of her apartment, dragging him by the collar of his stupid polo shirt over the threshold and slamming the door in his face. 

A week later, while sitting in her biology lab, she noticed some creep in the back staring at her. And then, the next day it was a frat guy at the football tailgate. By the end of the week, Lindsey felt like every guy on campus was staring at her. Mal came running to her room that night, brandishing her phone at Lindsey while she caught her breath. 

She should have known better. She shouldn’t have trusted him. She hadn’t felt comfortable, but he was her boyfriend and she loved him, and that’s what you do when you're in love... right? It was over the summer, while she was at a soccer camp and he was home halfway across the country. He asked her for a picture, something sexy. And, like the idiot she was, she did it. First in her bra and matching underwear, accentuating her cleavage and her curves, but then, he wanted her to take them off, to let him see her breasts and her butt. He said those were his favorite parts of her. Looking back, that should’ve been the first warning sign. But Lindsey was naïve, always had been, so she did what he asked. He told her how hot she was and how much he wished he could be there with her. It made Lindsey feel good, made her feel sexy, so she smiled and told him she loved him. 

Now, the vindictive asshole had posted her nude photos on the internet for the whole world to see. First it was just classes and being on campus that worried her, but then her coaches had to pull her aside and let her know that she was suspended until the school could investigate. 

After that, Lindsey didn’t even so much look at another boy for years. Once she was back on the team, her soccer was the only thing that motivated her. _Be so good they can’t ignore you_ _,_ her father used to say. She finally got attention from the national team and she never looked back. 

Back in her hotel room, Lindsey buried her face in the pillow, trying and failing to not let her mind wander back to the previous night. To the feeling of Emily’s mouth on her. To the sounds Emily made as Lindsey pushed her over the edge. She closed her eyes and willed herself to think of that soft smile, that tattoo on the back of her neck. 

_No._

_Don’t get hurt._

_Don’t be a fool._

Lindsey was pulled out of her warring thoughts by the click of a key card in the door. Tobin slipped inside silently, planting herself at the foot of the bed, gently stroking the back of Lindsey’s calf. 

“You want to talk about it?” 

“No.” Lindsey grunted, trying to hide her sniffles. 

“You sure?” Tobin always knows. 

Lindsey rolled over onto her back and stared at her best friend. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“For starters, you really think she called those photographers?” 

“I don’t know, Tobes. I barely know her, why should I trust her? I’ve been through this before.” 

“Yeah, with a jealous asshole. Why do you think she might have done this?” 

“Money? I’m sure those vultures would pay to find out where I was. Maybe catch me without my clothes on. They almost did.” 

“But didn’t you say she didn’t know who you are? You’re hot, Linds, but why would she call the paparazzi on a virtual stranger?” 

“Her friend showed up and blew my cover. But she, _Emily_ , asked if we could pretend it never happened. Like she wished she didn’t know.” Tobin just nodded, letting Lindsey talk. “But the pills...” 

“Pills? What pills, Lindsey? Did she drug you?” Tobin stood up sharply. 

“No! No, I was just being nosy. When you and I were on the phone, I kind of went through her medicine cabinet.” 

“I knew you weren’t actually listening to me.” Tobin huffed before sitting back down on the bed. 

“Her cabinet was filled with all these prescription bottles; I've never seen someone with that many pills besides my grandma before she passed away.” 

“Did you ask her about it?” Tobin asked pointedly, and Lindsey shook her head. 

“I kind of... might have called her an addict. I was so upset Tob, it was the only thing that came into my brain.” Lindsey was on the verge of tears again, realizing just how horrible she’d been to Emily. 

“Geez, Linds.” Tobin moved to wrap Lindsey in a hug. “Well, maybe after Carli gets done chewing you out, we can see if she’ll talk to you.” 

“I can’t go back there! Those photographers are probably camped out there, waiting for me.” 

Tobin gave her a pointed look. “Yeah, they probably are, which can’t be good for her _business._ _”_

She was right. If Emily couldn't run her business, it would be Lindsey’s fault. She needed to fix it, to make this all right again, to apologize. Maybe Emily would forgive her, or maybe she’d slam the door in Lindsey's face, which she might very well deserve. 

“So, while we wait for Carli to realize you’ve snuck by again, tell me about her.” Tobin smiled broadly, sidling up next to Lindsey on the bed. For a moment, everything seemed like it was going to be okay. 

Lindsey closed her eyes, the image of Emily’s deep blue ones looking back at her. “God, Tobes, do you think love at first sight is a real thing?” She rested her head on her best friend’s shoulder. 

Tobin chuckled. “I mean, I was pretty sure I loved Christen the moment I met her, but then she turned me down and I wasn’t so sure anymore.” 

Lindsey knew this story backwards and forwards, about how Tobin had fallen head over heels for the raven-haired girl that sat two tables away from her in a freshman art class. It took her six months to buck up the courage to ask Christen out, only to be turned down (in the most Christen way, overly polite and genuinely sorry). It took Tobin four years to ask again. The night they won the national championship, Tobin’s adrenaline pushed her to try again one more time, and they’d been together ever since. 

“So, she got your last name. Did you get hers?” 

Lindsey nodded sheepishly. “From the pill bottles. She didn’t tell me.” 

“Ignoring _that_ for now. So, tell me, what’s the name of your true love?” 

“Emily Sonnett.” 

Tobin smiled and mouthed the words to herself. “That name sounds kind of familiar. She’s American, right?” 

“From Georgia. Why would that name be familiar to you?” 

“I don’t know, Linds. You know I’m also a professional athlete too, right? I meet a lot of people.” Tobin playfully shoved Lindsey, eliciting her first real laugh. 

“Apologies, I forgot.” 

Suddenly, Tobin reached over Lindsey to grab her phone of the nightstand. She sat back against the headboard and started typing. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Googling her... duh.” Tobin said without looking up from the screen. Suddenly, her eyes went wide. “Oh, shit.” 

Lindsey turned sharply. “What? What Tobin? Is she, like, wanted for murder or something?” 

“I don’t know her. But I did know _of_ her.” 

“What the hell does that mean? She’s not dead. Oh my god, did she steal someone’s identity?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Tobin sighed and handed over her phone, letting Lindsey scroll through. At first, she couldn’t help but smile, even in her confusion. 

**Freshman Phenom Sonnett Shines in** **Conference** **Tournament**

**UVA’s Sonnett Earns Freshman** **Player** **of the Year** **and Defen** **sive Player** **of the Year** **Honors**

But then the articles took a turn. 

**Virginia’s Sonnett Out Indefinitely**

_“Freshman_ _Player_ _of the Year winner, Emily Sonnett,_ _was poised to help lead the Cavaliers to another_ _NCAA_ _tournament title, but that all came crashing down in the waning minutes of last night_ _’s semi-final. Sonnett was struck in the head and was carted off the field in an_ _unconscious_ _state_ _, taken to the nearest hospital. We’ve learned that she underwent a craniectomy to help relive swelling of the brain_ _, and a_ _s of now, she is still unconscious_ _, but her_ _doctors_ _are hopeful for a full recovery."_

 **Sonnett Recovery is** **Moving** **Slowly, But Surely**

_“_ _Earlier in the fall, UVA’s own Emily Sonnett, member of the women’s soccer program_ _,_ _was sidelined with a major head injury in the natio_ _nal semi-final. Now, three months later, we were able get some information about how her recovery is going. According to S_ _onnett herself, it’s progressing much slower than she’d hoped. She ha_ _s_ _only recently stopped using a wheel_ _chair and is working extensively with her PT_ _almost every day_ _. We hope to see her back on the field in no time.”_

 **Emily Sonnett: Back on Her Feet**

_“One year ago,_ _soccer star_ _Emily Sonnett was_ _in the hospital recovering from a traumatic brain injury_ _. Now, she is finally getting back on_ _grounds_ _to_ _continue_ _her degree. Though Sonnett is no longer medically able to_ _compete,_ _she was adamant that_ _UVA is still her home and she plans to graduate with her class._ _She explained how difficult this past year has been, citing the need for a little normalcy._ _For more information on TBIs, click here._ _”_

Lindsey could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks. Those medications, did she still have to take all of them? How tough her life must have been then; how tough it must _still_ be. 

“Why don’t I remember her?” Lindsey choked out. 

“This was before you came to UNC, Linds. I’m guessing she’s a year or two older than you.” 

“But still... I feel like I should have heard of her.” 

“Seems like she did everything to make sure nobody did after that year. She kind of fell off the face of the earth during her recovery and couldn’t play again. Probably wanted nothing to do with soccer anymore.” 

Suddenly, it all clicked with Lindsey. “That’s why she didn’t know who I was. Maybe why she moved here.” 

“I remember her.” Tobin said. “Not that well, this was my senior year, but I know she was good. A freshman winning awards like that, she probably could have been one of the greats. Maybe she could have been you.” 

And then, Lindsey understood Emily’s actions that morning. How she practically begged Lindsey to maintain her anonymity, like she didn’t want to know who Lindsey really was. At the moment, she assumed it was because Emily felt strongly about one-night stands. But now, she was Emily’s reminder of what could have been. 

Before she could give it anymore thought, there was a sharp knock on the door. 

“I know you’re in there, Lindsey. My assistant saw you in the stairwell. Open the damn door!” Carli’s screech was like nails on a chalkboard. 

Tobin pushed Lindsey back down onto the bed, offering to open it herself. As soon as the lock clicked, Carli burst through, nearly smacking Tobin in the face with the heavy door. 

“Are you pleased with yourself?” She asked. “Happy that you’ve jeopardized all of your sponsorship opportunities for one night with a below-average French whore?” Lindsey jumped up, ready to go nose to nose with her agent, but Tobin stuck her arm out, pushing Lindsey backwards. “You might as well just pack your bags now, there is no way they will let you play in the game now.” 

The one reason she’d agreed to this stupid trip was the game at the end. That’s all she ever needed. Bribing her with a chance to play was all it ever took. And now she wasn’t going to get that chance. 

“Back off, Carli. She’s basically the female version of Messi.” Tobin snapped, which was very unlike her. “You really think they’ll risk losing that kind of publicity because Lindsey was with someone for the night? Get out of here.” 

Carli’s eyes flashed like she was about to yell but turned back to Lindsey instead, somehow scarier as she talked in a low voice. “You step so much as a toe out of line, and I will have you back on the plane to Portland faster than you can say ‘half-volley’, do you understand me?” She seethed. 

Lindsey challenged her eye contact but gave a curt nod. Carli spun on her heel and walked back out the door, slamming it for effect. As soon as the lock clicked, Lindsey crumpled on her bed, no longer able to hold her sobs. 

*** 

Emily stood at the top of her stairs and watched Lindsey rush out of the store and into the mob of reporters. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Should she help? Shield Lindsey so she could get in the car and run away? Or pull her back inside, lock the door, and hold her, protect her, until they eventually went away? Something told her that Lindsey, Lindsey _Horan_ , didn’t need anyone’s protection. 

In a daze, she wandered back upstairs and into her bathroom. She saw that some of the pill bottles in her medicine cabinet had been moved or turned around. What would have possessed Lindsey to think it was okay to go through her things? They didn’t know each other; Emily didn’t even give her last name, and that was on purpose. Maybe she was overreacting, not everyone was as private as Emily was, but she had spent years keeping that part of herself hidden away. Kelley was the only person in Europe that knew anything about what Emily went through. 

_Kelley._

Emily picked up her phone and dialed her friend’s number. 

“Sup, Son? I’d have thought y’all would be wrapped up in bed a lot longer than this. She’s a pro-athlete, her stamina has got to be pretty good.” She chuckled. 

“Did you call the newspapers?” Emily asked coldly. 

“What?” 

“You find out I’m sleeping with a celebrity and not two hours later my place is surrounded by reporters? Pretty big coincidence, if you ask me.” 

She could hear Kelley take in a sharp breath. “Okay, fuck you, first of all, I had nothing to do with this! Em, I swear. I would never do that to you, and you know it.” 

Emily sighs, knowing Kelley was right. “If you didn’t do it, who else could've known?” 

“Have you ruled out that she called them herself? The only bad press is no press, right?” 

“You didn’t see the way she reacted. You- you didn’t hear the things she yelled at me.” Emily was on the verge of tears. 

“Want me to come over?” Kelley asked softly. Emily nodded her head before realizing Kelley couldn’t see her. 

“Please?” She whimpered. 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Em. Just sit tight.” 

Emily fell back on her bed, trying her darndest not to cry. She hated crying, crying meant you were weak, and regardless her circumstances, Emily never considered herself weak. She pulled up the search engine on her phone and, despite her better instincts telling her not to, she typed Lindsey’s name. She was bombarded with images of the beautiful blonde, on the field and off. There was a photo of her in this red jumpsuit that took Emily’s breath away. She had her own Wikipedia page, but Emily couldn’t bring herself to open it. The headlines flooded her mind as she read them over and over again. 

**Colorado’s Own Horan Selected for Olympic** **Roster**

**Lindsey Horan: World’s Best Player?**

**‘The Great Horan’ Leads Thorns to Championship**

The images of Lindsey leaping into the air after scoring a goal, Emily assumed, caused the corners of her mouth to tick up ever so slightly. But then she found one with Lindsey wrapped around a man, staring at him, smiling the way she had just hours ago in Emily’s shop. 

She was ready to hurl her phone at the wall when she heard the knob turn and looked up to see Kelley stepping toward her, taking a peek at the screen on Emily’s phone and wincing. She dropped down to the edge of the bed and wrapped Emily tight in her arms. 

It was in that moment, Emily felt safe enough to finally open the floodgates. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little while but I hope y'all enjoyed! It has to get worse before it can get better, remember that! There will rainbows waiting at the end. leave a comment if you feel so inclined, I love hearing your thoughts!


	7. The Hero Dies in This One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why can’t it be that simple?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (No one actually dies, it's a song)
> 
> I'm not feeling so hot after my second vaccine dose, but I wanted to get this out, so forgive any typos, please. Enjoy!

Lindsey didn’t apologize to Emily. She didn’t apologize because her psycho handler hadn’t let Lindsey out of her sight unless she was in the bathroom for nearly a week. Carli was always just a few feet away no matter what. And she’d never gotten Emily’s phone number, so contacting her in any way was out of the question. 

Finally, _finally_ , it was game day. Sure, this was just a little charity game, but it was a _game_. All Lindsey ever needed to clear her mind and ease her anxiety was the ball at her feet. She woke up and smiled to herself, ready to get going. Today was going to be a good day, she could feel it. And after today, she could go back home and try to forget this crazy trip. 

Try to forget the grey-blue eyes that haunted her dreams. 

Try to forget the feeling of fingertips ghosting over her body. 

Try to forget the soft smile of a girl she’d never see again. 

It didn’t work, but every morning she woke up trying not to think about Emily Sonnett. 

Carli was outside her door at 8:00AM sharp, just like she’d said the night before when she dropped Lindsey off in her room, as if she was a child, incapable of making it on her own. Lindsey didn’t even look at her before continuing down the hallway. She could feel Carli following her like an unwanted shadow. She slid into the back seat, sandwiching Tobin between herself and Christen, clutching her bag to her chest. 

One more day. One more day and she could get back to her life at home. One more day and she could forget the country of France existed for another couple of months. She would have to come back for the World Cup, if she made the roster that is, but that seemed far enough away that maybe she will have forgotten by then. 

_Yeah okay, sure, Linds. You keep telling yourself that._

Tobin and Christen were going to be playing on the same side, against Lindsey, in this little game. She had pretended to be ticked off when Tobin (as the team captain) picked Christen over her, but really, she was kind of excited to play against her best friend. It had never happened before. Lindsey had been with Tobin since college. Other than small-sided 5v5 games at practices, they were always on the same side of the ball. Her only goal in this game, besides scoring, was to make sure Tobin didn’t ‘meg her. She knew she would never hear the end of it otherwise. 

The pulled up to the stadium and Lindsey couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t the biggest stadium in Paris, but it was full of little girls and their parents, all squealing and jumping for joy. She spotted a little brunette girl with a _Horan_ jersey on, and her heart swelled. Lindsey walked over to her and offered to sign the shirt. 

When she stood back up, Lindsey swore she saw a flash of familiar blonde hair. But, just as fast as she’d seen it, it was gone. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. It couldn’t be Emily, it just couldn’t. She wouldn’t be there, would she? Based on the internet research she had continued to do over the past few nights after Tobin had fallen asleep, she couldn't find any evidence that showed Emily being around soccer after her accident. So, why would she be here? It must have been Lindsey’s imagination. 

(Lindsey had also taken to watching the videos she found of Emily playing in college every night, just wanting to see her smile again. But Tobin didn’t need to know that either.) 

Soccer notwithstanding, Emily probably wanted nothing to do with Lindsey after what happened. She was so ashamed of the way she acted that morning. And still, she had no idea who would have possibly leaked to the press where they were. She was resigned to thinking it must have been Emily’s friend, the freakishly bright-eyed at 4:00AM brunette friend. But it wasn’t like Emily had made any concerted effort to find her, had she? _Well, she’s got nothing to apologize for, you idiot._ _You accused her of being a drug addict._

As she walked out of the locker room, face toward the warm sunlight of the afternoon, Lindsey felt unstoppable. It may only be a fun exhibition match, but Lindsey Horan didn’t know anything but full speed at all times. She didn’t have a gear to downshift into. When the whistle blew, all her troubles from the past week were gone. Getting her foot on the ball brought her such peace, such joy, that her problems were washed away, at least for now. 

The unthinkable happened right before her first goal of the game. She was matched up against Tobin, who was playing some excellent defense, and they started the trash talk. 

“Come on, Horan, make a move!” Tobin said jovially. 

“Catch me if you can, twinkle toes!” Lindsey laughed, attempting to juke her friend. Tobin followed her right and then immediately went left, thinking she’d read the situation. Amid her change of direction, Lindsey slotted the ball through her best friend’s legs and took off. She had done the impossible, she had nutmegged the Queen. The crowd roared with “oohs” and “ahhs” while Lindsey streaked into the box and sent the ball flying past the other team’s keeper. 

Right as the second “half” kicked off, Lindsey saw that flash of blonde hair again. Her eyes whipped up, searching the crowd for a familiar face, but she was gone again. 

“Linds!” Tobin called. “Let’s go!” 

The game was back in full swing and Lindsey tried her best to stop herself from scanning the crowd every few minutes. Every woman in the stands with blonde hair caught her eye, but it was never the right one. 

The game finally ended, a narrow win for Lindsey’s team (thanks to her hat trick) and Tobin jabbed at her while they waited for the presentation. The money they raised was going toward an organization that was promising new soccer fields and futsal courts around and inside the city. The players were invited back for the opening of the first court in a few months, just before the World Cup. 

_Think you’ll be over her by then, Linds?_

The next morning, Lindsey brought her suitcase down to the lobby and waited for her taxi to the airport. 

“You should be thanking me, you know.” Carli’s voice made Lindsey’s skin crawl. 

“And what is it that I should be thanking you for?” Lindsey drawled, not bothering to make eye contact. She saw Tobin stepping out of the elevator while Carli continued. 

“Oh, I don’t know, saving you from losing all your sponsorships. Smoothing it over with the people you stood up, stood up twice might I add. So, you might want to think about using a nicer tone.” 

“Sorry, ma’am.” She could hear Carli huff behind her, like she had expected more of a response. 

“It’s just so unfortunate that that poor girl had to be collateral damage. I do hope the press stop hounding her after we leave.” Carli said in a voice that laced with false sincerity. 

Tobin stopped dead about five feet away from Lindsey, who spun so fast on her heel, her hair could have sliced through you. 

“What are you talking about?” Lindsey tried to keep her voice calm, her brain slowly putting the pieces together. 

“Oh, come on, Lindsey! Even you aren’t that dense. The press coverage you got while running around naked with your little French friend is what brought the sponsors back! Once they knew they could make money off of your hedonism, they were fully on-board. You didn’t tell me you were on a charity case, maybe she can do a tell-all to pay off her medical bills.” 

Carli had a devilish grin on her face, she knew what this was doing to Lindsey. 

“But... but how did you know where I was? I didn’t tell anyone where I was.” 

“You really are that stupid, aren’t you?” Carli scoffed. If there was one thing that could send Lindsey over the edge emotionally, it was calling her stupid. She had never been the smartest person, in school or out, but damned if she wasn’t the hardest worker. Nothing had ever come easy to her. Tobin inched closer, ready to step in and make sure Lindsey didn’t maul her agent in the middle of the hotel lobby. “Your phone, you idiot. I can track your phone through the provider. I just told them my daughter was lost in the city.” 

Lindsey was seething at this point. Thank goodness for Tobin’s cat-like reflexes, allowing her to grab Lindsey before she could punch Carli square in the face. 

“She’ll sue you, Linds. It’s not worth it, walk away.” 

But walking away would be a _smart_ thing, something Lindsey apparently was not. She wrenched free of Tobin and charged into Carli, pinning her against the wall. Carli looked around frantically like someone was going to intervene. 

“You’re fired. If you ever come within a hundred miles of me, I’ll make sure you never do it again. And if you ever get near Emily, I will rip your fucking head off, do I make myself clear?” Lindsey was nose to nose with Carli, jabbing her in the chest so hard it would surely leave a bruise. 

Without waiting for an answer, Lindsey took off out the lobby doors. She paused only to look at Tobin, who nodded, knowing exactly where Lindsey was going, before taking off toward Emily’s shop. 

*** 

“You’re joking, right?” Emily chuckled, looking at Kelley. 

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Kelley waved the two tickets around. “Look, you won’t stop obsessing about her, let’s at least go admire her from afar. And maybe drink a few beers while we’re there.” 

“I do not obsess.” 

“Yeah, whatever you say, Son.” Kelley snorted. 

She wasn’t obsessed, not really. Just because she found game footage of Lindsey and all these video interviews about her to watch didn’t mean she was obsessed. So what if she watched them multiple times? Why did it matter that she found some fan-made videos that spliced together compilations of that smile, single dimple and all, or of her laugh? Doing those things didn’t make her _obsessed._

Kelley had come by after her workday was over, claiming she needed a girls’ night. Alex was headed off on some trip to some tropical island to model swimsuits and didn’t think she could stay faithful to Kelley while she was gone. Kelley wasn’t really upset; they had done this before; she just wanted the attention. Alex would come back from her trip and beg Kelley to take her back, it was a whole thing that Emily really wasn’t interested in involving herself with. 

But, like always, Kelley invited herself over. At least this time, she brought a very large bottle of red wine with her. They were sitting side-by-side on the couch when she pulled out the tickets. Two seats at the charity soccer match happening the next day. The charity match Lindsey would be playing in. Kelley must have lost her mind. 

“Kelley... I can’t.” 

"Yes, you can. Just think of it as going to see a pretty girl. Or a bunch of pretty girls, really. Who even cares about the soccer? I’m going through a break-up and you need to support me.” 

“It’s not that simple.” 

“Why not, Sonny? Why can’t it be that simple?” 

But Emily couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse for Kelley, she knew this. Once her friend set her mind to something, there was no changing it. Kelley knew it would only be a matter of time before she broke her blonde friend down. 

“You’re paying for my drinks all day, and probably tonight when you drag me to the club. And you know I’m not into cheap beer.” Emily sighed, giving in, causing Kelley to squeal with joy. 

Emily was already one beer in by the time they got to their seats. She had spotted Lindsey on the street as they were walking into the stadium. She was crouching down, laughing with a little girl and signing a jersey. Her hair was down, framing her face and Emily could see how bright her eyes were shining even from a hundred yards away. 

_God, she_ _’s so beautiful._ Emily thought to herself before pulling the brim of her hat lower. 

The cheap ticket price seemed like an insult as Emily watched Lindsey on the field. It felt like this was a show for which she should be paying top dollar. The way she floated around the outside, always in the right place at the right time made Emily smile. The articles said she was good, but it was nothing like seeing her in person. When she scored her first goal, Emily had to hold herself back from cheering. Instead, she sent Kelley off to get her another drink. 

By the end of the game, Emily wasn’t quite drunk, but she was definitely more than buzzed. Her brain was a little fuzzy and she leaned heavily against Kelley. She watched Lindsey laugh with her friends on the field, her smile so big that it must have been visible from space. She watched Lindsey scan the crowd, and Emily swore they made eye contact, leaving a sick feeling in her stomach. She turned away before she met those eyes again, grabbing Kelley by her jacket and stumbling out of the stadium. 

Kelley did drag her to the nightclub. Well, “dragged” might not be the right word. In fact, Emily might have been the one who persuaded Kelley, not that she ever needed much pushing. Emily changed into a tight dress that made her feel sexy and let Kelley borrow something before heading out the door, making sure to slip out the back as the front was still swarming with paparazzi. She linked their arms together as they took off down the cobblestone streets. 

Emily loved dancing. It was freeing for her in a way only soccer had been able to before. For a while, the tension left her body and mind, just moving to the beat of the music. She felt the boom of the bass in her heart, the alcohol in her veins. For just a little while, the Emily from before the accident could come out of her shell and just have fun. She gripped Kelley’s hips and lost herself in the sounds, all thoughts of a pretty blonde wiped from her memory. 

*** 

Lindsey turned the corner and when Emily's shop came into view, she sprinted for the door. Sure, it was early, but coffee shops always open before dawn, she had to be there. Her heart broke when she saw the reporters still camped out front. She ran past them before they had a chance to see who it was. But instead of Emily behind the counter, it was a lanky, pale brunette. One Lindsey had seen before, just in the background. Though, everything seemed to fade into the background when Emily was there. 

“Hi there!” The girl greeted Lindsey. “You’re Lindsey Horan, aren’t you?” 

“Um... yeah.” Lindsey’s eyes darted all over the store. 

“I’m Rose, Rose Lavelle. I’m, like, your biggest fan! Used to play midfield too. We actually played against each other once, in club. You probably don’t remember me.” The girl rambled. 

“Maybe we can talk about it later or I’ll give you my number?” Lindsey cut her off. “But, right now, do you know where the girl that owns this place is? I need to talk to her.” 

“Oh, Emily? She's just upstairs. Said she wasn’t feeling well and asked me to open for her.” 

Lindsey stopped listening once she heard the word “upstairs”. She raced up the back stairs to the door of Emily's loft. She twisted the knob, locked. _Of course,_ _it’s locked, yo_ _u idiot. It’s her house, you can’t just barge in._ She knocked softly on the door, no answer. She knocked again, louder, and heard something crash to the floor. 

“I’m coming! Hold your horses.” 

Just hearing Emily’s voice on the other side was enough to get Lindsey’s heart beating fast. The door opened and there she was. Her hair was a little messy, falling out of a bun. She looked even more beautiful than Lindsey remembered. She was wearing the same blue flannel that Lindsey had found that morning, which caught her off guard. 

“Lindsey?” Emily narrowed her eyes, confused. 

“Hi.” Lindsey breathed. “Emily, I—” 

“Em? Babe, who was it? Come on, the shower should be warm now.” 

A voice called from beyond the door and Lindsey’s blood ran cold. The brunette friend, the one that blew Lindsey’s cover, was suddenly walking up behind Emily. She had on the grey sweater that Emily had been wearing when Lindsey first met her and nothing else. The sleeves dangled, just too long for her arms, and it fell halfway down her thighs. This other woman saw Lindsey and made eye contact with her as she slid her arms around Emily’s waist from behind, pulling her close until their bodies were tangled together. She pressed a kiss to Emily's shoulder and then to her neck, tucking her chin against Emily before speaking again. 

“Can we help you?” 

“Kel...” It wasn’t quite a warning, but it gave Lindsey hope until she watched Emily turn to look at the other woman. Lindsey had been the recipient of a look like that once, one of warmth and comfort.

“I just wanted... I came to..."

Lindsey stared until Emily met her eyes again, silently pleading for Emily to understand, but her deep, blue-grey eyes were steely and cold. 

“Well, if you don’t have anything to say, we do have things to do.” The brunette girl quipped, whispering something to Emily as she began to close the door, eyes never leaving Lindsey, challenging her as the other woman left a soft kiss behind Emily’s ear. 

“I’m sorry! Emily, I’m so sorry! I was wrong.” Lindsey cried, her hand on the door to stop it from closing. “I know it wasn’t you, I’m sorry.” 

“I told you it wasn’t me.” 

“I know, but...” 

“I told you. I _told_ you. And you... you went through my things? Called me an addict? You don’t even know me.” Emily trembled, sinking farther back into the other girl, who seemed to wrap her impossibly tighter, pressing her face into Emily’s neck. “Those vultures have been outside my door for a week. Do you have any idea how much business I’ve lost? Not all of us have million-dollar contracts and can travel all over world having one-night stands with locals.” 

“Emmy...” The brunette, _Kel_ , said quietly. 

“Please, Emily, let me explain.” She was on the verge of tears, her voice shaky. This was her only chance, she knew it. 

“Have a nice life, Lindsey Horan.” Emily parroted back the words Lindsey had screamed at her only a week ago, only this time it was deadly calm. 

And then the door closed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, the rainbows will come! Just have to ride out the storm a little longer. I hope y'all enjoyed, please leave a comment to let me know what you thought!


	8. An Attempt to Tip the Scales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And that’s all you’re looking for?”

Having sex with Kelley was easy. There were no expectations, no repressed feelings, just two friends helping fill a void in each other's lives. They had both been a little more than buzzed the night before and one thing led to another. Kelley was lonely and Emily was sad, a perfect storm of circumstances. It wouldn’t have been any kind of big deal, except for the knock that spurred Emily out of bed. No one outside of her small circle of friends knew she lived above the store. Any time she had spent the night with another girl, it was never at her own place. Emily was very good at making these girls feel like it was their own idea to take her back to their place. 

So, of all the people she could have imagined showing up at her door that next morning, Lindsey wasn’t even in the ballpark. For all Emily knew, she had hopped back on a plane to the states immediately after that game. Since she was barely coping with her own, Emily wasn’t prepared for the sadness she saw in Lindsey’s eyes when she stood there. Emily didn’t have anything to apologize for, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Why couldn’t Lindsey have just _believed_ her? Why did she have to run out without giving Emily a chance? If she had, _they_ would have woken up together in Emily’s bed again this morning. Emily would have shown Lindsey how good she was, rewarded her stellar performance in the game. 

She shouldn’t have gone to that game. Soccer used to bring Emily such joy, but now all it seemed to bring is a pain so deep in her chest she was sure her heart was actually breaking. As soon as she shut the door, Emily spun around in Kelley’s arms to hug her as tightly as she knew how. For her part, Kelley didn’t say anything, not that there was anything she could say to make her best friend feel better. They stood like that for a long while as Emily sobbed. 

“Em, you can go get her, tell her how you feel.” Kelley said softly, Emily's head resting in her lap on the couch some time later. 

“I don’t know how I feel.” It came out almost as a whisper. “She treated me like trash, she lied to me. I shouldn’t want to be with someone like that.” Kelley didn’t say anything, choosing to ignore how Emily just admitted exactly what she wanted, and continued running her fingers through blonde hair. Emily took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “Besides, she’s a celebrity and she could have anyone in the world. Why would she even want me? No one wants damaged goods.” Emily couldn’t see the tears that were welling in her best friend’s eyes at those words, too busy trying not to focus on the way her hands were shaking. “No, it’s better this way.” 

“Son,” Kelley’s voice was raspy as she failed to hold back more tears. “You are the most amazing, resilient person I have ever met in my whole life. You have been to hell and back and still, you have the kindest, most caring soul out there. Don’t ever think, even for a second, that you don’t deserve what you want. Say the word and we’ll get on a plane to Portland and find her.” She pressed a kiss to Emily's forehead and took one of Emily’s hands in her own, using the massage technique she learned to help with the shakes. They stayed that way as Emily slowly drifted off to sleep. 

Kelley, trapped under Emily while she slept, mindlessly started scrolling through her social media until she stumbled on the post Lindsey Horan had made less than an hour ago. A series of photos from her trip. From the game itself, to the press conferences, but the last photo was the special one. It was taken in the open-air market a few blocks away, Emily’s favorite place in the city. Kelley knew immediately who was standing behind the camera, who was making Lindsey smile so wide. 

_@lindseyhoran10: France, I cannot_ _even_ _begin to describe how amazing this trip has been._ _I have loved getting to know you_ _and_ _I left a piece of m_ _y heart_ _with you_ _in Paris_ _._ _À la_ _prochaine_ _!_

“Idiots.” Kelley muttered. 

*** 

**Two Months Later**

Getting the call for the World Cup was the greatest moment in Lindsey’s life so far. The moment she had been dreaming of, been working toward her entire life, was finally here. Getting that call lifted a weight off her shoulders that she didn’t even realize she had been carrying for so long. No one seemed surprised except Lindsey herself when the call came. Her parents cried, her brother pretended not to cry, and all her teammates hugged her. When she first called Tobin, the response was “duh”. 

The press junkets were an old hat to her by the time their travel day came around. One last round of questions before they were secluded in their team bubble for the next month. She was doodling on a piece of paper sitting on the table in front of her while Tobin and Christen were answering questions. She was putting the finishing touches on her cartoon soccer player when she felt a sharp kick to her shin. 

“Ow! Jesus Christ...” 

Tobin chuckled and pointed to a reporter in the crowd. 

“Lindsey, you were just in France a short time ago with some of your teammates. Are you excited to get back? As I’m sure you know, there are rumors circulating again about you playing abroad.” 

She did know, she may have inadvertently helped fuel them by constantly praising the organization she worked with and her comments about going back to Paris. Maybe if things had ended differently while she was over there, the thought of moving away might not have seemed so unrealistic. She had offers though, there were teams that had been in contact about getting her to come play, to go on loan or something. Maybe after the World Cup she would give it more consideration. Or maybe after the Olympics. Or maybe never. 

“I had an amazing time when I was in Paris a few months ago. It was truly a once in a lifetime experience and I am very excited to get back. I mean, it’s the World Cup!” She smiled brightly. “As for playing overseas, I’m not closing the door on it, but I don’t have any plans to leave Portland any time soon.” 

The plane ride was easy, Lindsey could sleep through anything and when you’re on a chartered flight, it's hard to find anything to complain about. But there was a little feeling, deep in her gut, that was gnawing at her. It wasn’t nervousness about the tournament, her mindset there was good. It was stupid really, there was no way she would run into Emily again. Emily purposefully stayed away from soccer, she might have even left Paris for the duration of the tournament, offered up her loft on Airbnb to make some money. She certainly wanted nothing to do with Lindsey, that much was made very clear. Not that Lindsey blamed her, she had been a total jerk to Emily. But the feeling was still there, somewhere between nausea and butterflies. Like she couldn’t decide if seeing Emily again was what she wanted. She pulled out her phone and opened her camera roll. She almost didn’t even have to look anymore for the photo, she’d stared at it enough to know. That day with Emily, she couldn’t get it out of her head. Even months later, that day stuck with her. And all she had left of it was this photo of her. She thought it was would just be a funny picture of Emily with her nose pressed to the glass of a jewelry case. But then, at the last second, she turned and smiled at the camera, smiled at Lindsey. Her hair was falling forward, but it didn’t hide her eyes and the way they sparkled with joy. Lindsey had been looking at that picture almost every day for the past two months. When she was happy about something, she wondered how Emily might celebrate with her. When she was sad, she thought about how Emily might comfort her. Nothing could beat the real thing, but, for now, at least Lindsey had _something._

Walking through the hotel lobby after their last training session before their first game, Lindsey’s eyes caught sight of someone that made her stop dead. A slight brunette with a hard expression was sitting on the edge of the armchair, leg bouncing up and down violently. As soon as the team started filing in, she stood and scanned across the faces. Lindsey tried to hide behind the person in front of her, never mind the fact that she was taller than most of her teammates. 

“Lindsey! Lindsey, wait.” A staff member for the team got in front of her blocking the path to Lindsey, which would’ve been a perfect excuse for Lindsey to ignore this girl. But this girl was connected to Emily, _had_ Emily, and Lindsey wanted to know why she was here. 

“It’s okay.” She waved the guy off. Tobin stood off to the side, just out of earshot, like the protective older sister she was, but Lindsey knew she wouldn’t intervene unless it was needed. 

She walked over and sat down in the chair, waiting for the other girl to follow her and sit down opposite her. 

“I never officially introduced myself, I'm sorry. My name is Kelley. I’m not sure you remember...” 

“Oh yes, I remember.” Lindsey scoffed, cutting her off. “I remember you quite well.” She eyed the brunette, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Look, I’m here because of her. She doesn’t know I’m here and if found out, she would murder me.” 

“Come to rub it in some more?” Lindsey asked dismissively. 

“What are talking about?” 

“Aren’t you here to remind me that you got the girl? To make sure I stay away from her?” 

Kelley didn’t say anything at first, just stared. When she spoke, it was quieter than Lindsey expected. “No. No, we’re not together. We used to... and every once in a while... Well, let’s just say it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part and leave it at that, okay?” As she finished speaking, she shifted her gaze away from Lindsey to the floor. 

“Then why are you here?” Lindsey was more confused by Kelley’s presence the longer they talked. 

“Did she tell you about what happened to her in college?” Lindsey stiffened just enough for Kelley to notice but shook her head. “But you know, don’t you? Did you google her or something?” 

“Or something.” 

“Well, let me tell you some things you might not know from all of your research, or _stalking_ is probably a better term, right?” 

She didn’t let Lindsey answer before she plowed on. The more Kelley talked; the more Lindsey’s heart twisted painfully in her chest. She spoke about the first time she saw Emily have a seizure, how it made her collapse on the bathroom floor, her head just missing the lip of the tub by a fraction. She told Lindsey about the times Emily’s migraines kept her in bed for days at a time. About how she pretends the shakes in her hands are from drinking too much coffee and everyone believes her because she’s gotten so good at showing people what they want to see. She spoke about how the accident affected her memory and that there were times when Emily couldn’t remember entire days of her life. Kelley talked about Emily’s spells of partial paralysis, driving the knife even deeper into Lindsey’s heart. 

She told Lindsey the story behind that cross tattoo, that as much as she hated God for what happened to her, she was even more thankful to Him that she was still here, that she could still walk. She said Emily still struggled with her faith a lot of the time because what kind of loving God would let that happen to her? To her family? And even though she struggled, Emily still went to church every Sunday, no matter what, hoping to find some kind of clarity. To try and cleanse herself of whatever sins she must have committed. 

“Why are you telling me all this? Lindsey asks, angrily wiping tears away. “I already know I messed up, okay? I know I missed my chance. You... you coming here to remind of that is just... it’s cruel.” 

“I’m not here for _you,_ Lindsey. I’m here for _her._ ” Kelley replied sternly. “I’m here because she’s devastated. She thinks she’s hiding it well but she’s not. And I think if you talked to her...” 

Lindsey stood up, shaking her head violently. “No. No, no, no! I can’t, I can’t deal with this right now, I have a game tomorrow. I’m playing in the World Cup tomorrow!” She started walking back towards the elevator bay, but Kelley caught her arm. Out of the corner of her eye, Lindsey saw Tobin inch closer to them. 

“You know she won’t go near soccer anymore? Not since her accident. Outside of a few pickup games I forced her to participate in, she stays away. That’s why she had no clue who you were. But since you left, she’s different. I dragged her to that stupid game of yours and, even though she wouldn’t admit it, she had fun watching you.” 

“She... she _was_ there?” Lindsey asked shyly and Kelley nodded knowingly, like maybe she could tell Lindsey thought she’d seen a mirage that day. 

“She’s watched all your games since you left, every minute of them. She tries to hide it because I guess she feels like she should be ashamed or something, I don’t know.” Kelley keeps going, her hand strong around Lindsey’s bicep. “I guess... just know she’ll be watching you tomorrow, okay?” And then Kelley let her go. 

“Okay.” Is all Lindsey can say back. She didn’t know what else she was supposed to say to all of that. 

“Good luck. Score one for her, alright?” Kelley gave her a wistful smile before disappearing through the revolving door. 

Lindsey just stood there, watching the door. Finally, Tobin came up beside her, touching her arm lightly, causing Lindsey to jump. 

“Was that...?” 

“Yeah.” 

Lindsey had never been able to hide anything from Tobin, not after being together for so long. When Lindsey returned to the hotel after trying to apologize to Emily, she couldn’t stop herself from breaking down as soon as she caught her best friend’s eye. She spent the night sandwiched between Tobin and Christen, who let her cry until she didn’t have any tears left. 

“Well, what did she want?” 

“She told me I should talk to her. To Emily.” Tobin nodded but didn’t say anything in response. “I tried already, Tobs. She literally shut the door in my face.” Annoyingly, all Tobin did once again was nod. “She said, ‘score a goal for her’ and that Emily will be watching.” 

“How about we work on that scoring thing and then we can worry about the other part, okay?” 

*** 

“Em, come on! It’s starting.” Kelley called from the couch. Emily was hiding in the kitchen, as far from her TV screen as possible. Well, Kelley would say she was hiding, but Emily just really wanted a good cup of coffee. Maybe she could go downstairs and whip up something better than she was able to make here. Or maybe she could go to the bakery around the corner and grab a snack. Maybe she could put in an order for her own store. Yeah, that’s it. She had work she needed to do; she didn’t have time to watch a soccer game on TV. 

“I’m just going to...” Emily started as she walked toward the door. 

“Not a chance, ma’am. Sit down and watch this game with me. Your lover is starting, you know?” Kelley wiggled her eyebrows and Emily threw a pillow at her. 

“She’s not my lover!” 

“In your dreams she is!” Kelley squealed, narrowly avoiding another flying throw pillow. 

Watching Lindsey play soccer felt like watching ballet. Not in the sense that she was dainty and gentle, no Lindsey was anything but _dainty._ The way she moved around the field, dictating the pace and movement of the game, it was all so beautiful. Her strength was on full display as she dribbled through and around the Thai players. It may have been a mismatch of opponents, but that did not take away from the athleticism being shown. 

Emily had gotten up from her seat to get another beer for herself and Kelley when suddenly there was a loud whooping noise coming from the couch. 

“Get your ass in here!” Kelley screeched. 

“What, what happened?” Emily ran back and saw Kelley pointing at the TV. 

It was the 32nd minute of the game and a free kick was placed just outside the 18-yard box. It was served in, jumbled around a bit before someone’s foot rocketed the ball into the back of the net. And, of course, that foot belonged to one Lindsey Horan. Her infectious smile lit up the TV screen as she celebrated her first World Cup goal. Emily stood behind the couch while she watched, gripping the cushion while she tried her best not to let her eyes water too much. She could only imagine the joy that was coursing through Lindsey’s body on that field. 

Just when she thought she couldn’t get more emotional about the moment, the commentator began speaking again. 

_“Lindsey Horan mentioned in the pre-game press conference this morning that_ _for any goal she may score in this tournament_ _, she planned to donate to the Brain Trauma_ _Foundation, one of the largest nonprofit organizations that benefits victims of traumatic brain injuries, which are unfortunately are all too common in soccer among other sports, and works to_ _ensure a normal day-to-day life is possible. It’s refreshing to see such a young player_ _taking_ _in_ _itiative_ _to_ _really help others."_

Emily didn’t have it in her to be upset about Lindsey finding out about her problem. She knew Kelley was involved somehow, what with how she reached behind her to lay her hand on top of Emily's, but she didn’t care in the moment. Emily was so incredibly touched by Lindsey’s gesture; she couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. 

The next morning, Emily was setting up the store as the sun was rising over the city of Paris. The gentle whirring of the machines brought her a sense of peace as she set the chairs down and watered her plants. She swayed and spun around, dancing to the music she was playing on the stereo. It was the first time in a long time she had woken up in such a good mood, though she refused to accept that it probably had something to do with a bright smile and thick, blonde hair. 

She was so lost in the music that she didn’t hear the bell chime over the front door. As the song ended, Emily whipped around at the sound of clapping hands. Lindsey was leaned against the threshold, that same bright smile plastered on her face. 

“How long have you been standing there?” Emily asked, embarrassed as she turned the volume down. 

“Long enough to remember that you’ve got some moves.” Lindsey replied, still smiling. 

“What are you doing here anyways? Don’t they have coffee at your hotel?” 

“Yeah, shitty coffee.” Lindsey wrinkled her nose and Emily tried her best not to melt on the spot. “We’re not supposed to leave the hotel, but I snuck out for some real coffee.” 

“And that’s all you’re looking for?” Emily wasn’t sure what answer she was looking for in that question. 

Lindsey just smiled at her again. It was becoming annoying that all she needed to do to make Emily melt into a puddle was show off those dimples. “For now, at least.” 

Emily poured her a fresh cup and slid it across the counter. When it became clear that Lindsey didn’t need her to fill the silence with talking, she slowly turned the music back up and continued her opening routine as the early morning sun glowed through the windows. Lindsey didn’t say a word, just sat there while Emily worked. It looked like she was trying to play some word game on her phone but doing poorly. Emily glanced over her shoulder to see the other woman flipping between the app and an internet tab. 

“You know, cheating at a game you play for fun seems counterproductive.” 

“Yeah, but my friend Christen is weirdly competitive about Scrabble and I’ve never beaten her before.” Smiling, Emily pointed out a word Lindsey could create with the letters she had left. 

As time went by, their quiet bubble was popped as regular customers and a few tourists began lining up at the counter. Emily finished pouring to the last person in line and then turned back to look for Lindsey, but she was gone. She had snuck away, and Emily couldn't help the way her heart sank a little. But then, she noticed something tucked underneath the empty mug. Two small strips of paper were wedged under along with a tip. Two tickets to Lindsey’s next game against Sweden. On the paper bill there was a message written in untidy scrawl. 

_"I’m_ _gonna_ _score another one for you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The healing begins. Maybe you can see the rainbow out on the horizon now. Please let me know what you thought, I love your comments! Happy weekend!
> 
> emalemaleigh on tumblr, but seriously don’t expect much.


	9. With Arms Outstretched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, she’s totally not your girlfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I've removed a lot of people from the team in this fictional world, I gave Lindsey the number she deserves.

The morning of the game, Emily woke up long before the sunrise. Really, she wasn’t sure if she had ever even fallen asleep. But if she hadn’t, how did she find herself dreaming of broad shoulders and white, painted nails? 

Lindsey had apologized to her, even if Emily wasn’t ready to accept it in the moment. But, what good could come of this relationship, whatever it was? The World Cup was only a month long, a month that included travel all around the country, and then Lindsey would be gone again. Back to America, 5000 miles away. Away from Emily and all her own problems. Lindsey didn’t need to be bogged down by a long-distance relationship, let alone one where your partner needed constant care and help. Emily had always prided herself over these last few years on _not_ needing someone, but the truth was, if Kelley wasn’t around all the time, she wasn’t sure how much she would function alone. Lindsey didn’t sign on for medications or doctor’s visits or anything like that. No, it was better left as just one night with a pretty girl. 

But sometimes, she let her mind wander, in the dark where no one could see. She thought about Lindsey playing soccer in France, maybe getting to watch her on a regular basis (and at a regular time). Or maybe she could move to Portland. The thought of leaving Kelley behind though, might be too difficult to bear. 

_One night together and you’re already thinking about a cross-continental move? Get a grip, Sonnett._

But it didn’t feel like just one night, that was the problem. It felt like she had known Lindsey for years. That night, holding Lindsey’s hand across the table while they shared a bottle of wine, it didn’t feel anything like a one-night stand or even like any first date Emily had ever been on. Maybe that should tell her something, but she wasn’t sure what. 

Emily stared at the ceiling above her bed for hours, wondering if she should do anything about the old water stains. Maybe she could paint her loft, that would take her mind off things, keep her occupied for a long period of time. But then she just started thinking about painting her walls green, like a certain someone’s piercing eyes and forced herself out of bed before she let her mind wander too far. 

After pulling on a pair of sweatpants, she headed downstairs. Maybe some cleaning or organizing would help quell her anxiety for the time being. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” Emily was so startled she almost fell down the stairs. 

Kelley was standing behind the counter, the full arsenal of cleaning supplies lined up on the white marble. 

“What are you doing?” Emily asked sleepily. 

“You know, I had a feeling that you would try to get out of today by making some excuse about cleaning or the need to organize something, so I went ahead and started without you.” 

“You’re a psycho, you know that right?” 

“We are going to that game. Your girlfriend got us amazing seats and I don’t want to miss it.” 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Emily mumbled, sitting down at a barstool across from her friend, regretting the day she gave Kelley a key to her place. 

“Well, it sure seems like she wants to be. Oh, by the way, there was a package at the door when I got here.” Kelley pointed to a small, wrapped box left at the end of the counter. There was no return address, all it had was her name in large, neatly printed letters. Peeling back the paper, Emily had a moment of worry that it was something like a bomb or she’d find someone’s severed head inside. 

_No more Criminal_ _Minds_ _before bed._ She thought to herself. 

In the box, she found a pile of thin, white material. Lifting it out, the actual garment came into view. A white top, with red and blue accents on the sleeves and collar. It was a jersey, a United States jersey. Spinning it around, Emily's breath caught in her throat. 

**HORAN**

**10**

Lindsey had sent Emily a jersey of hers to wear, maybe even dropped it off herself under the cover of night. Kelley nearly spit out the coffee she’d stopped to sip. A small piece of paper fell onto the counter as she unfolded the jersey. 

_Just so I can be sure to_ _find_ _you in the crowd. - L_

Reading over her shoulder, Kelley barked out a laugh. “Yeah, she’s totally _not_ your girlfriend.” 

“Don’t you have some cleaning to do?” Emily responded sarcastically and Kelley threw a dirty rag at her. 

*** 

When Lindsey promised to score her another goal, Emily didn’t think she meant the fastest goal in World Cup history. And yet, there she was, cleaning up in front of the net and slotted the ball past the goalie. Her teammates swarmed her as the crowd erupted in thunderous applause. It was only the third minute. 

Beside her, Kelley was going berserk. She was jumping up and down, spilling the beer that she hadn’t even been able to start drinking all over herself. 

Emily was too enamored by the tall blonde down on the field to notice anything else. The seats Lindsey had gotten them were in the family and friends' section, as close to the pitch as you could possibly get. She tried not to think about how Lindsey’s family might be just a few seats away from her, basking in their daughter’s success. Thinking about that would be too much. So, she kept her focus on the blonde ponytail on the other side of the field, fingers worrying the hem of the jersey she wore. But, as they lined back up for kick-off, Lindsey pointed directly at her. Held eye contact with her and smiled until the whistle blew, starting play once again. The noise of the crowd in her ears was silenced when Lindsey looked at her like that, like she was the only person in the world. 

The US won handily, the second goal coming from Lindsey’s friend, whom Kelley pointed out, even in her semi-drunken state, was Tobin Heath, the best ball handler in the world. The teams milled around a bit on the field as the stands began to empty, but Emily was glued to her spot, watching the way Lindsey smiled and laughed with her teammates, the pure joy written across her face. 

After some time, the team made their way over to the family and friends’ section, all with tired, happy smiles. Emily watched Lindsey as she approached, mesmerized by her strong shoulders and the absolute swagger in her step. She watched Lindsey greet the people that had to be her parents and her brother, whom Lindsey had told her about that night while they sat outside the little bistro for dinner. She smiled as they all embraced, Lindsey’s father in tears. 

Then suddenly, Lindsey was waving her over. No, Emily was not ready to meet Lindsey’s family. Not when she couldn’t even say for sure what Lindsey was to her, what they were to each other. She shook her head nervously, but then felt a sharp push from behind her. Kelley was downright giddy at this point, partly from the alcohol but more so from Emily’s embarrassment. She pushed until Emily was basically shoulder-to-shoulder with Lindsey’s mother. 

“This is Emily, you guys. I stumbled on her coffee shop last time I was here, and we got to know each other. It’s been really nice to have a friend that’s not a teammate while I’m here.” 

_A friend._

Emily could almost hear the way Kelley’s eyes were crossing and the gears turning in her brain from behind them. Kelley was never wrong, at least in her own mind. 

“It’s nice to know there is someone looking out for my baby girl.” Lindsey’s mother gushed. 

“Yes ma’am.” Emily responded shyly, her Southern manners popping out, unsure of what to make of this situation right now. 

Her parents began packing up their belongings and were talking to Lindsey about where they were going to eat dinner that night before their train to Reims in the morning. Lindsey shooed them off, but not before her mother thanked Emily again profusely. For what, she wasn’t really sure anymore. 

After they headed up the stairs, Lindsey turned quickly to Emily with an embarrassed expression written across her face. 

“I’m sorry, they just don’t know... because I’d never... you know, before you.” She mumbled, breaking eye contact to look down at the grass and her cleats. At those words, Kelley stepped back and walked up the stairs to the exit, understanding that this was a moment she wasn’t a part of. 

Emily understood even without Lindsey being able to say all the words she wanted to. Coming out was not something anyone should ever be rushed into or feel pressured to do. It was fine if Lindsey wasn’t ready. Not everyone is able to come to terms with things like this right away. Especially since “I like you” doesn’t always add up to “I’m gay”. But anyone who raised a daughter as confident and strong as Lindsey, could never be anything but supportive. 

Leaning over the railing, Emily reached down to stroke Lindsey’s sweaty hair and smiled. “It’s fine, _friend_.” 

“Come hang out with us tonight!” Lindsey took Emily’s hand in her own before she could pull away like Lindsey knew she wanted to. 

“No, you have to be with your teammates. You have to do recovery and all that.” Emily tried again to pull her hand away. 

“Come hang out in my hotel room then. No! Not like that!” Lindsey exclaimed, seeing the way Emily’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “I just mean, we’re all going to be relaxing, maybe even watch a movie or see if there’s a new episode of the Bachelor. I promise it will be very chill. It’s just... we won’t be back in Paris unless we make the final—” 

“ _When_ you make the final.” Emily cut her off. 

“Whatever. I just want to see you before we have to leave.” Lindsey’s eyes were big and full of hope. 

Emily reached into her back pocket and handed over her phone. “Put your number in so I can get the address.” 

Lindsey squealed and took the phone, sending herself a text message so she’d have Emily's number. “I’ll leave your name at the front desk, so they know to let you in, and I’ll meet you in the lobby.” 

Before they went their separate ways, Emily leaned back over the railing once more, smiling down at Lindsey. “It was a good goal.” 

*** 

Lindsey paced back and forth in the hotel room, ready to leave a worn track in the ugly carpet. 

“Calm down!” Tobin called halfheartedly, barely looking up from her phone. “You promised her you would be chill; this is not chill.” 

“Well, if I don’t get it all out now, I’ll be a bumbling fool when does get here.” 

“And how is that different than any other day?” Lindsey heaved a pillow at her best friend’s head. “Seriously, Linds. It’s going to be fine. If she is willing to come hang out with the crazies on our team, she’s got it bad. Maybe almost as bad as you.” 

As Lindsey made to throw another pillow, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. 

**_Emily:_** _On the way, should I bring anything?_

**_Lindsey:_** _just your pretty face_

_God, could you BE cheesier?_ Lindsey took a deep breath as she typed the words, imagining the blush creeping up Emily's neck. She wasn’t sure how, but Emily brought out this confident side of Lindsey that she wasn’t sure had been there before. Sure, there’s always been a bit of bravado when it came to soccer, but outside of it? No one ever called Lindsey confident, especially when it came to relationships. Boys liked her, but it always seemed like it was because of her body or her celebrity. But with Emily, she felt like nothing could go wrong, nothing could hold her back. So, she went for it. 

**_Emily:_** _I don’t remember you being this c_ _orny_

**_Lindsey:_** _it’s part of my_ _charm_

**_Emily:_** _Be there in 1_ _0_

Lindsey’s stomach flipped again and again as she waited in the lobby. She couldn’t sit, as comfortable as the chairs looked. She tried not to pace, but the nervous energy had to go somewhere, or she might implode. 

Then, suddenly, there she was. Emily stepped through the big, glass doors of the hotel, scanning the room with a timid expression. Meeting Lindsey’s gaze, she smiled softly and walked over. She had traded Lindsey’s number for a powder blue crewneck and leggings, bringing out the color of her eyes even more. All at once, the anxiety and tension in Lindsey’s body melted away at the sight of her. 

“Hi.” Emily wrung her hands nervously and Lindsey desperately wanted to reach out for them. 

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Well, it wasn’t like I had other plans. So, it was sit on the couch alone with a movie or be here with you. I have to tell you, you only won by a very slim margin.” 

“Happy to have even been in contention.” Lindsey laughed and Emily smiled wide. “Come on, there are people I want you to meet.” 

Using every ounce of bravery in her body, Lindsey reached out her hand for Emily to take. At first, Emily just looked down at it and Lindsey was mortified, wishing she could take it back. But then, Emily laced their fingers together and all felt right with the world, like this was the way it always should be. She never wanted to let go of Emily’s hand ever again. 

Of course, Emily and Tobin would hit it off, Lindsey should have known this. Tobin was so easy-going that there wasn’t a soul alive that wouldn’t get along with her. From the moment they were introduced, it was like they were best friends, laughing with one another, sometimes (if not mostly) at Lindsey’s expense. While they were doubled over in a fit of giggles about Lindsey’s picky eating habits, Christen knocked softly on the door before entering. She had come to steal Tobin away for some alone time, but then she spotted Emily and squealed. 

“Oh, my goodness, hi! I’ve heard so much about you! I’m Christen, by the way, but you can call me Chris if you want. She’s prettier than you said, Linds! I didn’t know you’d be coming over, usually Tobs is the one left out of the loop around here.” 

“Hey!” Tobin shouted in mock outrage. 

“Is she wrong though?” Lindsey chuckled causing Tobin to stick out her tongue. 

“We’ll give you guys some privacy; we have... _things_ to do.” Christen said, dragging Tobin off the bed and out the door, giving Lindsey an overexaggerated wink. 

“Do I want to know what _things_ they're off doing?” 

“Probably not. I’ve walked in on them too many times, I think I’ve been permanently scarred.” Lindsey replied, dramatically flopping back onto the bed. “Wouldn't want that to happen to you.” 

Emily sat cautiously on the opposite edge of the bed. “So, I hear you’ve been telling people I’m pretty. Though, apparently not doing me justice.” 

Lindsey felt the blood rush to her face. “I mean, I guess I wanted to leave some just for me.” 

“Smooth recovery, Linds. Good job.” 

She smiled and sat closer to Lindsey on the bed. Lindsey tried to pretend that she couldn’t see the way her hands shook, but it was becoming more and more noticeable. 

“Will you tell me about it?” She asked, not wanting to spook her away. “Only if you want to, it’s none of my business.” 

Emily took a deep breath and settled against the headboard, turned slightly to look at Lindsey. There was an expression behind her eyes that Lindsey couldn’t quite read. Like a mixture of fear and longing. 

“What do you want to know?” 

Having only Kelley’s perspective and the news articles she had found, the story from Emily’s side seemed markedly different. She detailed to Lindsey what it was like waking up in the hospital with no memories of what had happened. How scared she was that she’d be paralyzed for the rest of her life, confined to a wheelchair. She spoke about how she lost touch with so many friends because the only connection they ever really shared was through soccer. She told Lindsey about the choice to move to Paris, and how difficult it had been to get adjusted. Her hands trembled violently as she talked, until Lindsey took them in her own and held tight. 

By the time she finished, after what felt like hours, Lindsey felt hot tears running down her own cheeks. Partly because of how her heart ached after hearing Emily’s story, but also because of the sheer humiliation she felt for treating Emily the way she had. This girl had been to hell and back, but Lindsey reduced her suffering to a bad habit that morning. How alone must that have made her feel? To stand there and let Lindsey yell at her when she had done absolutely nothing but give Lindsey a day she would never forget. 

“I’m sorry.” She croaked out. 

Emily removed her hands from Lindsey’s grip and motioned Lindsey into her side, wrapping her arms tight. “I forgive you.” She breathed, her lips pressing into Lindsey's hairline. 

Before she could second guess herself, Lindsey tilted her head up and captured Emily’s lips with her own. The electricity that surged through her body was palpable, her hand reaching up to cup Emily’s cheek. Coming to her senses, Lindsey jerked away. 

“God, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, I just... and you’re just...” She fumbled for her words, something that seemed to happen anytime Emily was around. She had moved too quickly; they weren’t _there_ yet. Emily was going to leave, and everything would be ruined again, just because Lindsey had zero impulse control. 

But then, Emily brushed her hand through Lindsey’s hair before leaning back in and pressing their lips together again. 

“You're just... too." She smiled, resting her forehead against Lindsey's. 

They stayed that way, wrapped in one another, trading kisses and secrets, until they fell asleep. Lindsey was tucked into Emily side, resting her head over Emily’s chest. As the sun began to rise and cast a glow over the room, Lindsey’s eyes fluttered open, breathing in soft, lavender perfume. Next to her, Emily slept soundly, her nostrils flaring every so often as she dreamed. 

Lindsey couldn’t bear to wake her, not yet. Instead, she laid her head down, lulled back to sleep by the steady beat of Emily’s heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This got away from me a bit, but I hope you enjoyed! Please, if you feel the need, drop a comment and tell me your thoughts! I had a really crappy day so if you didn't enjoy it, don't tell me. I'm thinking there will be 2-3 more chapters here.
> 
> emalemaleigh on tumblr (don't expect much)


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